Second Chances 4th in the FS Series
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: 4th in the Feasibility Study series. It’s a rollercoaster ride of romance and angst for all couples. Major Gil backstory, Sara backstory, Greg& Tawny make big decisions.GS,GrOC,NOC,CW,B. Complete
1. Default Chapter

**Author's Note:**

This is the 4th installment in the Feasibility Study series. "Second Chances"(15 chapters), "Batting a Thousand", "Management Issues" and "How Much Longer?".

(18 chapters total and originally FS 37-54).

* * *

"**Second Chances - Part 1"**

**August 7, 2005 (Day 107)  
****The Grissoms'  
****7:34 a.m. **

Sara was still asleep when Grissom returned carrying a breakfast tray. After placing it on the dresser, he walked over to the bed and sat beside her, taking a minute to watch the gentle rise and fall of the comforter over her chest. She looked beautifully serene and secure…just what she needed to be and it pleased him to know he provided the safety and comfort she deserved.

She looked so peaceful he hated to wake her, but he needed to discuss Brass' job offer this morning because oddly it was her day off, but he had to go into the office to catch up on paperwork. Paperwork, or the future lack of it, was exactly the reason he couldn't wait to talk to her about switching jobs. "Sara…" Gently, he brushed her hair off her face. "Wake up, Honey."

Moaning, she rolled on her side and curled tightly into a ball.

Trying a different approach, he slipped under the blanket and curved his body around hers. "Good Morning, Sweetheart," He whispered in her ear.

"Mmm…" Slowly her eyes batted open and she realized she was in her husband's arms. "You're out of money and my shift is over."

"What if I said I just returned from the ATM?" He joked as he kissed her cheek.

"I'd say go to Freemont Street and find another working girl…maybe one who needs help with geometry."

"If you insist." He rolled away pretending to leave.

"Notice how I don't care?" She didn't move from her comfy position.

"I brought you breakfast."

"Now I'm interested." She bolted up. "Oh…" Realizing she didn't have anything on, she asked, "Could you toss me one of your t-shirts too?"

Before retrieving the tray he grabbed a gray t-shirt from one of his drawers and threw it on the bed.

Now that the sleep was out of her eyes she saw what he had on…grey sweats, a navy t-shirt and sneakers, which he never wore. "Are you wearing work-out clothes?" After pulling the t-shirt over her head, she sat back against the mahogany headboard.

"Four miles on the treadmill," He proudly announced as he brought her breakfast tray. "And speaking of good health…strawberries, orange juice, cereal and your pre-natal vitamin." Placing the tray over her lap, he smiled, "All high in folic acid."

"Aww." Reaching for her juice glass and vitamin, she beamed. "You're taking care of me."

"Symmetry, remember? I'm returning the favor, because you certainly took care of me last night."

"Did I?" Coyly, she asked, "If I did how come you woke up early and had enough energy left over to walk four miles?"

"You left me invigorated." Picking up a strawberry, he brought it to her mouth. "I thought Boom Boom in the limo was the epitome of eroticism, but Boom Boom as Carmen…combining two of my favorite things…opera and sex…let's just say, I really couldn't be much happier this morning."

"I'd say _anytime _but, I wouldn't mean it." Laughing, she poured the milk in her cereal bowl. "Boom Boom staggers her performances for dramatic effect, and to prevent the law of diminishing returns from kicking in."

"Which is fine with me because frankly…I couldn't handle her nightly." He recognized a good segue when he heard one. "Speaking of nightly…I have something important I need to discuss with you. Brass made me a job offer that I don't think we'll want to refuse."

"Really?" Lifting her bowl off the tray, she chomped while listening.

"He wants me to leave the night shift supervisor position. He's created the non-administrative role of Master Criminalist to help bring the lab back up from number three and wants me to take it."

Choking on her cereal, she asked, "We're number three? Who's number two instead of us?"

"LA."

"Oh, Honey…that has to hurt."

"Yeah…I'm still bleeding." Taking a deep breath, he shrugged off the disappointment. "Anyway...since there has never been a Master Criminalist position, I get to create it with Brass. I can choose things like leading the most challenging cases, training the staff on the latest advances, performing quality control and revisiting cold cases. I'm really looking forward to the change. Jim said to talk to you about what shift you want to work and then I can build my hours however I want."

"Wow…I kind of miss nights because the lab is much quieter at night but…I like working with Nick and now that the team has turned a corner, I think I'll stay where I am." Wrinkling her nose, she admitted the truth. "I love Catherine as a friend but, I think it would be a bitch to work _for_ her."

"Imagine if Warrick has to? Anyway…back to me. Another good thing about this new position is it would lead to a lot of opportunities to publish and lecture which always helps the lab's reputation."

"And yours." She placed her empty cereal bowl on the tray. "You'll finally have a title that matches your top dog status. You have to love that. As your proud wife, I know I do."

"It's interesting to hear you say that." He lifted the tray and carried it over to the dresser. "When Catherine and I were trapped in the building and talking to keep our minds occupied, she commented that my ego appreciates me being 'top-lab guy, top-bug guy and…on-top-of Sara guy'.

"Funny…I don't recall you being in that particular position last night."

"That's because I'm saving the traditional for next week." Laughing, he rejoined her in bed. "Don't you remember our nosy neighbor Blanche's advice…don't get fancy, missionary is best."

"And prop my hips so the little swimmers don't have to fight gravity." She grinned. "And take cough syrup. You know I never forget anything. Actually, I bought some Robitussin when I stocked up on healthy food the other night."

"Tell me you're not serious? Wives tales? Two scientists are going to resort to wives tales? Our PhDs might be revoked."

"Au contraire...it's not superstition, it's pure science. Guaifenesin, the main ingredient in Robitussin, is an expectorant, and it is commonly used to thin mucous in the lungs when you are congested, but it also works on the cervical kind…giving the swimmers a less combative journey."

"I'm tracking you." Nodding, he remarked, "And I suppose the other two tips are in line with the principles of gravity so, maybe Blanche is a scientist after all."

"I wouldn't go that far. When she came by the other night with her noodle kugel, which was excellent by the way, she also told me to keep a broom by the back door to sweep away evil spirits of infertility."

"Please tell me you're not going to do that."

"No." She gave a quick laugh. "But, I was thinking we should try a role-play…it's the 1950s, the rhythm method is the only available means of birth control, our love is forbidden and it's my first time, because that always did the trick in clichéd B movies. When I was fourteen, I was in this home for a year with a nice older woman, Mrs. Kearny, and she loved watching sappy movies. Used to bawl her eyes out. I'd be curled up in a chair reading, but I'd get sucked in every time. Now that I think about it, she's why I got into sappy movies. Hmm…I have to remember that for Dr. Myers. Anyway…I remember one in particular that always busted up Mrs. Kearny, A Summer Place. Unbelievably tame compared to today's PG-13 movies, but I guess it was shocking back then. Have you ever seen it?"

"No…missed that one somehow." He rolled his eyes.

Suddenly she was on a philosophical rant. "It had to be scary being a single, sexually active woman in the 50's male dominated society…no reliable method of birth control, you were stigmatized as loose if you got caught…like Rizzo in Grease. Oh and worst of all…backwoods abortions, like that poor girl in Racing with the Moon or Penny in Dirty Dancing."

"Dirty Dancing?" His ears perked. "I didn't know you…"

"Down boy…it's PG-13 and they dance with their clothes on."

"Oh."

"Speaking of dancing with clothes off…think of Tawny and Greg's situation. Sure, it's been rough, but no one is really going to make a big fuss over it in 2005. But if it happened in the 50s…all hell would be breaking loose."

Sitting in his car down the block from his son's house, Ron Grissom waited for the right timing. Should he approach them both? Just Gil? Just Sara? And when? Good timing wasn't something he always had…

_Cowering in a chair across from his father who was authoritatively sitting behind an impressive oak desk, Ron broke the news._

"_Sir I…I have something to tell you. I know it's not what you want to hear but I…" _

"_Out with it," Arthur Grissom snapped as he impatiently waited for his eldest son to get to the point. "Are you here to tell me you'll be receiving another B?"_

"_No, Sir. I'm pulling straight A's this semester." He gripped the arms of his chair tighter. "I uh…I need to get married." _

"_Excuse me?" The gruff businessman leaned forward staring his son down. "You **need** to get married?" _

"_Yes." Finding the courage to continue, Ron enthused, "She's a wonderful young lady. Gifted in the arts and very well read."_

"_What's her name?" He asked while his blood simmered. _

"_I was planning on asking her to marry me as soon as I finished my master's, so it's really only a couple of years earlier than…" _

"_Her name…" _

"_Jillian." _

"_Her **last** name." _

_He gulped for air. "Cleary."_

"_You knocked up an Irish Catholic girl!" Arthur stood until he was looming over his wayward son. "You're a disgrace to the family. You need to eliminate this problem, finish your education and return here ready to assume your position in the company, and when you do…you will marry a girl who fits in this family. Do you understand?" _

_Unable to look into his father's disapproving eyes, Ron quietly said, "I'm…in love with her."_

"_How sweet." Arthur slammed his fist on the table. "Then hold her hand while taking her to get rid of the baby, buy her a Coke afterwards and then kiss her goodbye!"_

"_No!" Ron protested. "A girl from school died last semester doing that! And Jillian would never…it's my baby too and …"_

"_Are you sure?" He snarled. _

"_Yes!" Incensed, Ron jumped to his feet. "How dare you insult her honor! Didn't you hear me? I love her. I'm doing the responsible thing. I'm not taking her to some butcher! It's out of question." _

"_Then so is your place in this company." _

"_Fine." _

_His son's impetuousness fueled his ire. "Until this problem is resolved, I'm cutting you off financially. That includes tuition and living expenses. I'll want your car back too." _

"_Fine!" Diving into his pocket, he retrieved his keys and threw them on the desk._

"_You go through with this and you'll lose your trust fund." _

"_I don't need your money." Ron stood a little taller. "I'll get a job and do this on my own." _

_Pulling a cigar from his desk, Arthur Grissom laughed at his naively idealistic son. "Let me guess…you'll go out and make a million dollars just so you can tell me to go to hell." _

"_No." Seething with anger, Ron stood to look his callous father in the eye. "I'll tell you right now…go to hell!" _

_As he stormed towards his father's office door, he heard him cackling. "Aaron, you'll be back once you start living on white bread and mayonnaise sandwiches!" _

"_Don't hold your breath!" Throwing open the door, Ron marched past his father's secretary and then ran out of the building. When he reached the city park, he finally stopped running and took a seat on a bench. Panting, he dropped his head in his hands while the significance of the scene in his father's office overpowered him. _

_With no money, no car and no job, how will we survive? How could I let this happen to us? He asked for the hundredth time. If we stay here, Jillian's reputation will be ruined. We need to leave. We need to go someplace no one knows us. We'll go to California, I'll get a job and find us a place to live and we'll raise our child. _

Staring at his son's expensive house, Ron smiled, thinking…you've come a long way, Gil and I had very little to do with it. When Jillian and I brought you home from the hospital, you slept in a drawer in a tiny one bedroom apartment.

**Greg's Apartment  
****7:52 a.m. **

Walking though his front door, Greg balanced a tray of coffee and a bag of muffins. "Tawny?" He called out as he placed the breakfast items on the kitchen counter. "What the?"

Pages and pages of solved algebra problems were strewn all over the counter along with printed sheets from the Internet math site he had bookmarked for her. "Unbelievable," He remarked as he realized she had breezed through quadratic equations online tutorial.

Holding one of the pages, he walked towards the bedroom. "Tawny?"

When he walked into the room, he saw her curled up in his bed clutching the extra pillow. Just like he had done in the past, he wanted to crawl in bed next to her and greet her with a flurry of kisses that would inevitably lead to something wonderful. Then he remembered the bag of muffins on the kitchen counter and berated himself. Couldn't you take her _out_ to breakfast for once in your life?

As he turned to leave the room, he tripped over a box and crashed into the wall. "Ow!"

"Who's there?" Tawny snapped up and scanned the room. "Oh…thank god it's you!"

"I'm home," He sweetly announced while rubbing his forehead. "I was coming to tell you, great job on the Algebra." He held up the sheet of paper. "I was just heading to the kitchen to find a red pen so I could draw a big star on it and leave it on the bed."

"You were so right!" She bounded out of bed to throw her arms around his neck. "It is like riding a bike! I didn't forget."

"I told you." He wrapped his arms around her and within seconds of feeling her warm skin and the satin of her revealing pink baby doll pajamas, he felt a familiar urge. "Um…I was thinking…we should go out for a breakfast and celebrate your math success."

"Really? _Out?_"

"Yeah…out for a nice breakfast…no, brunch! It's Sunday after all." Yeah…brunch was much more meaningful. His guilt dissipated quickly. "Why don't you hop in the shower while I change into something nicer?"

"This will be so much fun! I'll get in the shower right after I grab a glass of water." She started for the door. "My throat is dry."

"No!" When he saw her surprised reaction, he smiled to cover his motivations. "I…I want to get it for you."

"Aww. Thanks for thinking of me." She beamed with delight. "Just leave it on the counter outside the shower, okay?"

"Sure." He nodded while watching her enter the bathroom.

Once he heard the shower running, he hurried into the kitchen to grab the trash can from under the sink. Snatching the bag of muffins off the counter, he tossed them inside then raced to the door to dispose of the evidence.

**Crime Lab  
****9:30 a.m. **

Sitting in his office, Grissom dialed the number Jim had left on his voice mail.

"You're always so punctual," Brass answered in a cheery tone.

"You sound happy this morning."

"I'm a very happy boy." He snickered. "Last night my _travel companion_ lost a bet that we've had going since we left Vegas."

"Don't you mean, Lady Heather?" Grissom laughed.

"Oh, so you _did_ believe me?"

"I believe you have a twisted sense of humor," He clarified. "Who is she really? Is it that woman we met while processing the spa at the Mirage? I knew she had her eye on you."

"No, it really is Lady Heather. Here…I'll put her on the phone because she and I have talked about an issue at length recently and she has something she wants to tell you."

"Jim, I'm really too busy for practical jokes and I…"

"Mr. Grissom…"

The voice was an exact match. "It really is you?" He gasped as he sat back in his desk chair.

"I wanted to say I'm very sorry for being such an insensitive bitch to Sara. Your wife has nothing to do with the ill feelings I harbor toward you. She shouldn't pay because you were a spineless, judgmental, asshole who turned a deaf ear when I tried to explain my innocence."

"Uh…" It wasn't easy hearing the truth. "I…"

"I'd approach Sara myself but I fear, based on my previous deplorable behavior, she wouldn't let me get a word in. So would you tell her…if she gives me a chance, I'd love to apologize in person and assure her I will never behave that way towards her again."

"Um…well…I'm confused." Still thrown by the fact he was talking to her about this, he scratched his head. "I mean, what's the point? When I apologized to you, you told me apologies are just words."

"Coming from a man like you, they are just words, but coming from me an apology has meaning. Thank you in advance for passing my message to Sara. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a spa appointment, so I'll put Jim back on the phone."

"I'll see you later, Heather." Jim's sunny voice boomed through the receiver. "I feel a hell of a lot better now, don't you? So what did you decide about the job?"

"How long has this been going on?" He quizzed while still coping with the surprise.

"Since after the incident when you were at the bug freak convention. Shocking! Hey, we're cool with this, right? Cause I don't want any weirdness."

Grissom pondered the situation carefully. "Well, it is a little weird considering we're friends and I..."

"Hey, it's not like Greg has a problem with you sleeping with Sara after he had her."

"What!"

"Just busting your balls. I know the thought of Sara with another man has always turned your stomach." Jim riotously laughed. "Okay, so tell me Prince Charming, what did you and Snow White decide?"

Anxious to end the bizarre phone call as soon as possible, Grissom cut to the chase. "I'll take the position and Sara will keep her spot on Days. We both thank you for giving us our life back. And there's no way in hell I'm passing on Lady Heather's message because Sara will know I spoke with her and then I'll have to explain why so she doesn't get jealous. When I tell her why, she'll be really pissed at you for not telling her because she thinks you were her hero that night and believes you can't stand Lady Heather." Rubbing his right temple, he sighed, "Sara…she has a bit of a temper regarding betrayal. You need to tell her about the two of you before I can tell her about the apology."

"Good point. I'll handle it first thing when I return because unlike you…cough…Tahoe...cough, I'd never intentionally hurt Sara. I'll be in the office tomorrow."

Hoping to close the subject once and for all, Grissom griped, "She's forgiven me for that, can't you?

"I'm a much tougher sell because I don't need you to keep me warm at night. We both know you lucked out with Sara because she was needy and vulnerable. Any other woman would have told you to go to hell. Heather would have escorted you there in chains!"

Covering his face with a hand, he groaned, "You can stop talking now."

I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Sweetie."

Staring at the receiver, he placed it back on the cradle. "Yeah…I've had my quota of shocking news for one day."

**The Squash Blossom Restaurant  
****10:05 a.m. **

At a quiet table in the garden café of the resort, Greg sat across from Tawny studying her…the thick golden hair cascading over her shoulders, the depth of her dark brown eyes, and the delicate curve of her beautiful smile.

"My French Toast was wonderful, how was your omelet?" She asked in a chirpy tone.

"Great." Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his. "I'm really glad we went out. We need to go out more often…on a budget of course."

"It may be hard with our crazy schedules," She sighed. "I was thinking, maybe instead of working at the Cheesecake Factory, I should get a job cocktailing in a high end place. The money would be so much better and…"

"Noooo."

"Why?"

"Because of the perverts, that's why." He placed his other hand over hers. "You've had enough men leering at you and tossing money your way to last a lifetime, okay? Although my job has made me acutely aware that filthy freaks are everywhere, the odds of running into them in the middle of the day at The Cheesecake Factory are a lot slimmer than working in a bar in the middle of the night. We'll be fine as long as I max my overtime every month at the lab. And in a year, barring any major screw-ups, I'll move up to a CSI 2 and get a raise. Worse case, if things get tight after the baby, I can ask my dad for a loan."

"Thanks for wanting to protect me, Greg." Her eyes darted from his soulful eyes to his parted lips and she wished he would cover the distance between them and kiss her.

"Everyone deserves to have someone looking out for them." Standing up, he kept holding one of her hands. "I don't need change so we can go."

"Yeah…" She stood. "You must be getting tired."

He pulled out his car keys. "A little. Why don't we stop and rent a movie on the way home?"

"That would be fun."

Hand in hand they walked out of the restaurant and through the resort bar.

"Sanders!"

Greg heard his name coming from the bar and when he turned he saw Hodges and his equally obnoxious buddies Craig and Denny.

"Friends of yours?" Tawny inquired.

"No. I work with one of them. He's a jerk sober…drinking he's even more offensive. We'll just say hello real quick to shut him up and then beat it." Walking over, Greg nodded. "A little post-shift decompression?"

"When you work hard, you play hard." He raised his green bottle in celebration. "So Sanders, aren't you going to introduce us to your…_cousin_ who is obviously obligated to be out with you because there's no way a woman this gorgeous would go out with you unless you paid her."

"Maybe he is paying her," Denny cracked.

"Not funny." Greg gave Tawny's hand a supportive squeeze. "This is my girlfriend, Tawny Cooper."

She was pleased that he officially introduced her as his girlfriend. "Hi."

"Wait a minute." Craig pointed at the girl. "I recognize you."

Tawny froze, suddenly remembering why they all looked familiar too.

"You worked my cousin's bachelor party at Tweeters. July 2nd, I remember you, Baby. It was a couple of days early but I distinctly remember seeing fireworks in the VIP room with you."

"Oh…my…god." Hodges couldn't believe his luck. "Greggy's girlfriend gave _me_ a lap dance."

Like deer watching an eighteen wheel truck barreling toward them, Greg and Tawny stood frozen.

"So, Greggy," Hodges elbowed him. "Do you have to keep a wad of bills handy when you're out with her, or does she give it up for free if you take her to brunch first?"

"Shut the hell up." Greg batted his arm away. Never considering this particular scenario, he felt completely off guard.

Reaching for his wallet, Hodges pulled out a twenty. "Come on, Baby. Shake your tail feather for me."

"You son of a bitch!" With an ability he didn't think he had, Greg landed a perfect right hook to the side of Hodges' nose, sending blood spatter flying through the air. "Holy shit!" He was stunned by the result and took a moment to admire his success.

"Greg, don't!" Tawny screeched as she covered her mouth with her hands.

The bar patrons halted their conversations to see what would happen next.

"You bastard! You broke my nose!" Hodges lunged toward his nemesis and a second later the two of them were wrestling on the floor knocking over chairs and beating the crap out of each other.

Several older women walking through the bar to the restaurant screamed when they saw the two men and their blood stained shirts.

"Excuse me, Tweety." Craig guided Tawny out of the way. "We have to help our pal and put an end to this embarrassing geek duel."

"Please don't hurt Greg!" She screamed as she grabbed Denny's hand, holding him back. "Uh…I can get you free passes to Tweeters and a lap dance with The Raven!"

That got Denny's attention and brought the fight ratio down to a still unfair two against one.

Craig bent over and grabbed Greg by the elbows. "Okay, buddy, take your best shot while I've got his arms."

"You're not fighting fair!" Tawny yelled as she released Denny's hand and kicked Craig in the ass. "If I had my stilettos on you would have been sorry!"

Just as security flew around the corner, Hodges landed a solid right jab to Greg's jaw, sending him crashing down on the hardwood floor.

In horror, Tawny watched the guards scoop Greg and Hodges off the ground and when they snapped handcuffs around Greg's wrists she started to cry.

"Come on children," One of the guards announced, "LVPD will be waiting out front to take you for a ride to the station."

Hodges groveled as he squirmed in the cuffs. "We are members of the LVPD."

The security guard snickered. "Maybe not for much longer. I'm sure the cops will call your supervisors."

Picking up Greg's car keys, she called after him. "Greg, I'll meet you there!"

**The Grissoms'  
****11:00 a.m. **

A little under an hour ago, cradling a few home décor magazines, Sara walked through the unrenovated bedrooms of the house trying to decide which would make the best nursery. The first choice, across from the master suite, had the best natural light and, after careful consideration of the other three choices, she selected it for that reason.

Next, she fanned out the magazines…cheery ladybugs, whimsical butterflies, snuggle bugs, garden bugs and construction worker ants. Sure it was putting the ant farm before the ant but, she couldn't resist planning.

It had been a while since she played designer. The therapeutic need for her doctor mandated hobby had become less and less necessary as she gained confidence in herself and her relationship. But as soon as she started, she remembered the joy it brought her.

Now, forty-five minutes later, she had plotted out the entire room and written a love note to her husband.

Setting down her pencil, she decided to grab a drink before beginning the physical prep work on the walls.

When she reached the hallway, the sound of the doorbell startled her. Then she recalled Blanche insisting on stopping by around eleven o'clock with another platter of fattening food, hoping to assist in making her hips baby-worthy.

Upon peeking through the peephole, she confirmed it was indeed Blanche and Doris as well. "Hi, Ladies," Sara greeted, hoping they would leave the tray and run. "Blanche, the kugel was fantastic. Thank you."

"Today we brought you some zucchini loaf and macaroons to nosh on."

"Great." Sara accepted the tray. "But please, I insist you stop going to this trouble."

"It's no bother, it's our mitzvah for the day," Blanche assured her. "What else do we have to do except gamble, play matchmaker at the club and fatten up your tush?"

"How flattering…I made the top three." Retreating inside, she said, "Thanks again, Ladies."

As she walked to the kitchen, she couldn't deny the zucchini bread smelled fantastic. Placing the tray on the counter, she peeled back the cellophane and snagged a thick slice. "Mmm."

The doorbell rang once more and she hurried to swallow her bite so Blanche wouldn't get encouraged upon seeing she hadn't wasted any time scarfing the goods.

Grabbing the doorknob, she plastered on her best smile. "Really, Ladies, you are too sweet but…"

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the man on her doorstep. It was as if Gil had gone to work and come home twenty years later. "Oh my god. Are you…?"

"Sara…I'm so happy to meet you." Nervous as hell, he forced his best salesman's smile. "I'm Ron Grissom…Gil's father."

**Crime Lab  
****Grissom's Office  
****11:05 a.m.**

Grissom was furiously filling out paperwork when his office phone rang. Without checking the display, he huffed, "Grissom."

At first he kept completing the form in front of him, but when the words on the other end of the phone registered, he dropped his pen and removed his glasses. "What? Why? Felony or misdemeanor?" Lowering his head, he asked, "Which police station? Yes…I'll be there in ten minutes. Thank you for the courtesy call."

As he hung up the phone, he grabbed his car keys. "Damn it, Greg!"

Rushing down the hall, he made a beeline for Nick's office. "Nicky!"

"Where's the fire, Gris?"

"Can you get Carrie to meet me at the police station on Harmon? I need a legal consult stat."

Without hesitation he grabbed his cell phone. "For a case?"

"A head case actually." Grissom informed him. "Greg's in lockup for disorderly conduct but they may bump it to assault, in which case he'll lose his job."

"Sanders fighting? Who was he fighting?"

"Hodges. He's in lock up too. My lucky day, huh?"

"Hodges? I know there's no love lost between them, but a fight?"

"It's complicated." Grissom felt his blood pressure rising. "Just have Carrie meet me there, okay? My day started out great, but I keep getting blindsided by the unexpected. I don't need anymore surprises, so please keep things under control here while I'm gone."

"You got it." While watching Grissom hustle out of the office, he punched in Carrie's code. Luckily he only had to wait two rings before hearing her vivacious voice. "Hey, Baby…feel like doing a little pro-bono for a charity case today?"

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

"**Second Chances - Part 2"**

**August 7, 2005 (Day 107)  
T****he Grissoms'  
1****1:07 a.m. **

The shock of Ron Grissom's presence siphoned the blood from Sara's face because, although he was standing before her alive and well, he was a ghost. "You're dead to him," She coldly informed the trespasser. "Forty years have passed since you last saw him…since you dropped him off at the curb, lied to his face and drove off into the sunset. You have no right being here. You may call yourself his father but, Gil doesn't have a father. He hasn't had one since the day you _chose_ to walk out the door and abandon him. So turn around and do what you do best…disappear. Because I won't let you hurt him again."

In the few minutes he'd spent with her, Ron knew two things…Sara loved Gil with all her heart and she, like Jillian, wasn't a woman who would be easily swayed. "I know…"

"Why are you here! Why now?" Turmoil brewed within her as anger and curiosity vied for control. "Are you dying of a brain tumor and want to clear your conscience? Do you need a kidney or some bone marrow? Or is it money? If it's money you need, I'll write you a check for whatever amount you want as long as you promise to leave and never come back again!" Her eyes glowing with anger, she screamed, "Just tell me your price!"

"Please…I don't _want_ anything. Well, truthfully I'd love a glass of ice water because I've been walking around for an hour trying to get up the courage to ring the bell." With the back of his arm, he wiped the sweat of the 112 degree day from his brow. "But to allay your fears, I have enough money to play poker with Bill Gates. I don't need an organ donation and I'm not dying…I already tried that twice with two massive heart attacks. I have the scar of a triple bypass to prove it."

Flashing from rage toward the father to concern about his son, she asked, "You have heart disease?"

He saw the worry in her eyes. "Does Gil?" He found it hard to believe after watching him ride that pulse-pounding rollercoaster the night before.

"You don't get to ask questions." Stepping back she cleared the way for him to enter. "Just like in the interrogation room at work…I'll do the asking. You'll do the talking. And if you cooperate, I'll provide you the water you requested."

"Thank you for giving me a chance," He gratefully announced as he stepped inside his son's home.

"Make no mistake..." Forcefully she shut the door. "…I'm not_ giving_ you anything but a glass of ice water."

While absorbing the atmosphere of the beautifully decorated home, he replied, "I'll answer whatever you ask."

Marching toward the kitchen, Sara tossed out the first of a thousand questions taxing her mind. "When did you have your first heart attack and what caused it?"

"In my early fifties I developed serious hyperlipidaemia and hypertension…caused by a horribly indulgent diet and an obsession with my work. One day I received a phone call delivering some distressing news. A couple of hours later I was in the hospital having my heart jump-started." Stopping in the center of the massive and well-appointed kitchen/living room combo room, he remarked, "You have a lovely home. Did you use a decorator or…"

"I ask the questions, remember?"

"Sorry for the slip." He augmented the apology with a smile.

Retrieving a glass from a kitchen cabinet, Sara walked to the fridge. "One bad phone call was all it took?" Placing the glass under the ice maker, she filled it with cubes.

"I wasn't prepared for the news." Lifting Sara and Gil's wedding photo off a shelf, he somberly said, "The call informed me that my ex-wife, Gil's mother, was killed in a car accident."

Clutching the glass of ice water with her two trembling hands, Sara walked it over to the unnerving guest. "Why was that upsetting to you? I find it hard to believe that a man who walked out on his wife would be so overcome with emotion he'd keel over."

"That's because you only know Gil's version of the story." Carefully he placed the photo back on the shelf. "And Gil only knows what his mother told him or didn't tell him." He accepted the glass of water she was holding. "Thank you."

"Did you come here to…"

"No, I didn't come here to change my son's perception of his mother. She's no doubt a heroine of mythic proportion to him and that's how she needs to stay. No matter how she contributed to the downfall of our marriage, she raised our son to be an outstanding man under very difficult circumstances. And as much as I despised her in the end, I never stopped loving her. The last thing I want to do is tarnish her in any way."

"How could you abandon someone you love?" Adamant in her belief, she shook her head. "No…you're lying."

After taking a sip of icy beverage, he said, "She was a fan of Shakespeare…quoted him all the time."

Sara's lips unconsciously curved as she thought like mother like son.

"The course of true love never did run smooth." He smiled at the memory. "She would say that quote every time we hit a bump. You see, our marriage was…did Gil ever tell you about our marriage? Sorry…I know I'm not supposed to ask. It's just…I don't want to say something in particular if he doesn't know."

"All he knows is that you walked out the door, filed for divorce and got yourself a new family. What more does he need to know? The only other thing he's ever mentioned is you got married in a church."

"Hmm…so I guess Jillian never went back on our promise. I always figured she did and blamed me."

"Wait a minute." Sara read the man's eyes. "Blamed you? Are you saying…Gil wasn't planned? You weren't married when…"

"The course of true love never did run smooth. He was our first bump but please understand, although he was unplanned, he wasn't unwanted."

Taking a seat in her husband's favorite chair, Sara ordered, "Tell me more."

"Very well." He sat on the edge of the couch. "I first met Jillian…"

**LVPD  
****Police Station  
****11:20 a.m. **

It wasn't the first time Grissom was summoned to assist an employee in trouble with the law. As he stepped into the station, memories of Sara's DUI came flooding back.

"Grissom!" Sergeant Davis prompted the Crime Lab Supervisor when he saw him approach the desk. "This way. I have them in an interrogation room instead of lockup."

"Thanks." He checked his watch. "I have someone meeting me here. Her name is Carrie Blake. Could you make sure someone at the desk escorts her to the room?"

"Will do."

"Mr. Grissom!" Tawny rushed over and grabbed his arm. "Please don't fire Greg!"

"Calm down, Tawny." He noted her eyes were wide with alarm. "I'm only here to get the facts."

Upon hearing the purpose of his visit, she gushed the details. "One minute we were out having a nice time and then we ran into that creep Hodges and his nasty friends. Everything was fine until the guys recognized me from a bachelor party they attended at Tweeter's. Greg was thrown when Hodges announced he had paid for a lap dance with me at that party. And when Hodges took out his money and propositioned me, Greg went nuts and slugged him. You see…it's all _my _fault, not Greg's. If I wasn't an embarrassment to him none of this would have happened. I'm a stripper, this kind of thing happens all the time. I can't expect guys to respect me when…"

"Hey! Low Self-esteem Girl! You need to stop talking in front of the nice police sergeant right now!" Carrie snapped as she stowed her car keys in her briefcase. "No offense, Sergeant…" She glanced at his badge. "…Henderson, but we both know how the game is played."

"None taken, Counsel."

"Carrie…" Grissom was grateful she made it so quickly. "This is Tawny, Greg's girlfriend. Tawny, this is Carrie Blake, she's an attorney and a friend of Sara's."

Carrie smiled at the scared girl. "Sorry for yelling at you, Sweetie but loose lips lose cases and nothing sticks in my craw more than a girl who thinks she deserves to be abused by men." Softening her voice, she told the shaken girl, "But we'll get to that later. Let's focus on Greg right now, okay?"

"Okay."

The Sergeant regrouped. "So Grissom, you supervise both Sanders and Hodges?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I should call in the Assistant Director for impartiality."

"That would be me. I'm covering for Jim Brass who is on vacation."

"All the shit is rolling down your hill today, huh?" The sergeant laughed.

"Yeah." Turning to Carrie, Grissom instructed. "Why don't you get Tawny's story while I speak with the sergeant and my employees? Then we'll compare notes."

"Sounds good." Carrie put her arm around Tawny's shoulder and walked her away. "How about I buy you a cup of really bad police station coffee?"

As ticked as Grissom was at Greg for getting into this mess, after hearing Tawny's explanation he couldn't help but admire him for standing up for the mother of his child when she was vulnerable. Not every man would. Certainly not his own father.

**The Grissoms'  
****11:40 a.m. **

Sitting in the overstuffed chair with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, Sara listened to Ron Grissom's story. It was the stuff clichéd B movies were made of and her suspicions were high.

"Why should I believe any of this? You're the same guy who told his son he'd call and visit but never did." Her gaze narrowed. "You're hardly a credible witness."

"And you must be very good at your job as a Criminalist." Reaching into his pocket, he produced physical evidence. "I brought photos."

"Photos?" Her curiosity flowed stronger. "Of?"

"Jillian and I…of the early years…of Gil as a baby and a boy." He extended the envelope. "I took them with me when I would go away on business for long periods of time. Jillian used to stick new ones in my briefcase and I kept compiling them." Sensing both her desire and reluctance, he said, "You can look at them free of obligation." He reached further so she wouldn't have to make much of an effort to take the envelope.

Having never seen a photo of her husband as a child, and considering how Gil was the spitting image of Ron, she couldn't resist the opportunity to glimpse what her future baby might look like. Once the envelope was in hand, she quickly reviewed the photos.

**LVPD  
****Police Station  
****11:40 a.m. **

Sergeant Henderson opened the door of the interrogation room for Grissom. "Can I trust you to control these two so I can let my officer out of the room?"

Stunned by the damage to both Greg and Hodges's faces, Gil sighed heavily. "Yes."

Once the door was shut, Greg lowered his head. "I'm really sorry, Grissom."

Hodges, holding an ice pack to his broken nose, snarled, "You'll be even sorrier when you're rotting in jail for assault."

"It will be worth it!"

"Enough!" Grissom pulled out the chair at the head of the table. "I want to hear both of your stories without interruption. David…you first."

"All I did was state a fact," Hodges calmly explained. "His girlfriend gave me a lap dance back in July. Sanders obviously felt embarrassed and went psycho. I didn't even provide details…like how she did this thing with her breasts…"

"Screw you, Hodges!" Greg shouted. "You see what he's doing, don't you, Gris! He's trying to set me off again!"

"Stop! Greg…you're in enough trouble already so please…keep quiet." Grissom held up his hands. "And you, Hodges, I only want the _relevant _facts regarding the _altercation_."

"Like I said…" In total control of his emotions, he stared at Greg while speaking to Grissom. "He didn't like the idea that I knew his girlfriend's body up close and personal so he _assaulted me_ in an effort to shut me up. I was innocently exercising my first amendment right to free speech and I was not misrepresenting the facts in any way. You're my supervisor and I'm officially informing you that Sanders has an anger management problem. I'm sure I'm not the only guy who knows his girlfriend is a stripper. What if he's in the field with his gun and someone brings it up? What if he has his weapon and sees me and decides to exact a little revenge?"

"You know if he gets charged with a felony he loses his job, right?"

"He should have thought of that before he slugged me. After I leave here I have to go to the ER and have my god damn nose re-broken and set!"

"I hope it hurts like hell, you son of a bitch!" Greg snapped. "You publicly humiliated my girlfriend by shoving cash in her face!"

Grissom jumped up from his seat and opened the door. "Hodges, please step outside and take a seat on the bench for two minutes."

"Sure, Boss." Hodges grinned in spite of the searing pain of his broken nose. "I'll be waiting."

After slamming the door, Grissom marched over to the table and blasted the hot-head slouching before him. "You won't do Tawny or the baby any good if you are unemployable. You've been acting so responsible about this whole thing and now this? Would you please comprehend the gravity of the situation! The hot dog stand on Main won't hire you with a felony conviction! So stop thinking of your precious _ego_ and shut the hell up! Inciting Hodges isn't going to make him rethink the charges."

"But he…"

Empathizing, Grissom pulled up a chair. "I get it, Greg, I really do…he's an insufferable prick who disrespected the mother of your child. While that's true, I can't fire him for being an asshole outside of the workplace but I'll have to fire you if you get charged. So please…deal with your emotions _in silence _in deference to the more important matter of keeping your ass out of jail and employed. We use the constraints of the law every day to nail people but this is the flip side…he can use the same constraints to nail you. When he returns to this room, I want you to sit at this table and keep your mouth closed unless I ask you a direct question. Got it?"

"Yes." He finally lifted his gaze. "Thank you for the attitude adjustment."

"Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled." Resting his hand on Greg's shoulder, he nodded. "I'm going to let him back in and try my best."

**The Grissoms'  
****11:50 a.m. **

Staring at the photo of baby Gil, Sara's heart overflowed with joy. For the first time she could visualize what their child together would look like and it was a beautiful vision. "He seems like such a tiny baby. How big was he?"

"Six pounds. He was a month early." Ron set his empty glass on the coffee table. "We hadn't even purchased a crib yet…we were waiting for my next pay check. When we brought him home, Jillian took out a drawer from our dresser and used it as a makeshift bassinette." He lightly chuckled. "His early arrival was just the beginning. Gil…he did everything early…walking, talking, reading. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how smart he is."

The happiness faded from her face. "How would you know? You were rarely there."

"True. After my father cut me out, I let my bruised ego get in the way of my own family." Sitting back against the cushions, he explained, "When we first arrived in California we only had enough money to secure a tiny apartment. It was a far cry from the country club lifestyle I was used to but…I didn't mind. I was a naïve twenty-two year old and I believed love was all we needed to be happy. It didn't take long for reality to burst that bubble. The truth was we were on our own for the first time in our lives and we were scared to death."

"What about Jillian's parents?"

"Her mother died when she was sixteen. Her father was a professor of English Lit and highly regarded in his church. He was a kind man but Jillian was too embarrassed to tell him about the pregnancy. You see back in our day, if a girl got pregnant before marriage she was the scandal of the church. Today…the Catholic Church _is_ the scandal and high schools have programs for teenage mothers. It must be hard for you to understand." Smiling sweetly at Sara, he said, "I know not to ask a woman her age so I'll guess and say you were born in the early seventies…post-sexual revolution."

"I've read enough books and seen enough movies to comprehend your generation." She flipped to the gorgeous sorority photo of Gil's mother. "No DNA technology to even prove who the father of your baby really was so I have to give you props for believing Jillian. From what I understand it was common for guys to turn their backs when a girl got _in trouble_…you have to love that saying, it was like she did it on her own. Hell, if a girl was raped she better have been beaten to a pulp to prove it….even then she was used goods."

"Every generation has its darkness."

"Not that there's any doubt because Gil certainly has all your_ physical_ features." In a cutting tone, she remarked, "But thankfully he's quite different when it comes to character attributes. Responsibility isn't something he shirks. On the contrary, he's spent his whole life identifying people shirking theirs and making them accountable for their pathetic actions. Is it really any mystery why he chose his profession?"

"Mysteries are only mysterious until the right questions are asked and answered."

For the first time, the father not only looked like the son…he sounded like him. "So I'll ask more questions. How does a man who claims to love his wife and son…the attentive man in these photos…how does he turn and walk away from them one day?"

"It didn't happen overnight." Not having spoken of these events to anyone in all this time, he struggled. "Um…when I tell you…I know it will sound like Gil was the cause of all our problems, but that's not true. He was the catalyst but Jillian and I were the guilty parties and if we were stronger people or if we had any support, I'm sure we could have coped. We just had so much to deal with so fast and her stubbornness and my greedy determination to show my father I could make it got in the way of everything that was right."

Once again Sara looked at the baby photo. "How can anything this innocent cause pain?"

"It was a few months after Gil was born that I noticed a change in Jillian. For the first time ever, I felt she was hiding something from me. I couldn't figure out what it was so eventually I gave up trying and attributed it to our financial struggles. There was no money for art supplies or the finer things she enjoyed. When we were dating I had plenty of cash and I spoiled her rotten buying her gifts, taking her out on the town. I knew she missed the excitement. With me working all the time to make ends meet while she stayed home with a colicky baby I figured she was getting depressed. Today they have a fancy term for it…Post-partum depression?"

"Yes."

Smiling, he said, "As you know, men like to_ fix_ problems. So I set out determined to fix our financial troubles so I could buy her whatever it took to make her happy…a better house, a nicer car, art supplies." Holding up his glass, he said, "I'm afraid I'm still parched. Would you mind if I got some more water?"

"I'll get it for you." Sara reached for the glass and hurried into the kitchen.

"Thank you, Dear."

The affectionate term unsettled her. "Keep talking."

"I was working two dead-end jobs when one day a man approached me about a sales position. He guaranteed I'd make four times what I was making in both jobs combined."

"Legally?" She asked as she set the fresh glass of ice water on the coffee table.

"Most of the time," He cryptically answered before taking a sip. "But sometimes not. It was a line I never thought I would cross but I would have sold my soul to the devil to restore Jillian so I took the job."

Her stomach rumbling, Sara retrieved the tray of baked goods she had received earlier. "Would you like…"

"No thanks." He returned his glass to the table. "Not on my diet."

"Right." She returned to her seat with the tray. "So you took the job…"

"Yes, and it required me to be away for weeks at a time. It was that feature of the job that allowed Jillian to keep her secret for as long as she did."

"Her hearing loss?"

"You know?"

"I know she had otosclerosis." She popped another macaroon in her mouth in an effort to not divulge any additional details.

"At the time of course she didn't know what she had. I was completely clueless. You see, pregnancy can exacerbate the situation rapidly," He informed her.

"I've read that in my research."

"You researched it?" He caught Sara's eyes. "Does Gil…"

"No questions."

"That's right. Back to the story…my wife covered by reading lips and blaming exhaustion for her strange behavior. I begged her to see a doctor but she wouldn't. By then we had the money…she was just so stubborn. She said women had been having babies since the dawn of time and she wasn't going to go to the doctor complaining she was tired because all mothers are tired. Usually Gil would do something to get our attention and, before we knew it, we'd be off the subject and enjoying a happy family moment." His voice suddenly faded, "She had been lying to me for almost two years before I figured it out."

She could see the betrayal flashing in his eyes. "How did you figure it out?"

"One day I came home from a trip to New York City…"

_Bursting through the door with a dozen red roses, Ron yelled, "Jillian, I'm home! The trip was a huge success. Jillian?" _

_The sound of Gil frantically shrieking sent a shiver up his spine. _

"_What the hell is going on?" Ron exclaimed when he saw his wife painting a canvas in front of the sunny living room window like she didn't have a care in the world. "Jillian!" _

_Finally she turned around. "You're home." _

"_How can you leave Gil screaming like that while you paint? He sounds frantic." Dropping his things, he rushed out of the room, hurrying down the hall to his son's room. When he opened the door, he saw his son lying on the floor with one of his feet stuck between the bars of the crib. "Oh my god!" Carefully he released his son's twisted and swollen foot and comforted him in his arms. _

"_What happened?" Jillian asked as tears streamed down her cheeks. _

"_He climbed out of the crib and caught his foot in the bars. I think it's broken. God damn it! How could you let him scream like that without checking on him?"_

_Only tears flowed. _

"_Answer me, Jillian! Why are you acting so crazy! Why won't you let me get you help?" _

"_I…I didn't hear him." _

"_You didn't hear him?" He smoothed his hand over his hysterical son's back. " How could you not hear him? I heard him the second I walked through the door." Walking out of the room, he barked, "I'm taking him to the hospital." _

"The doctors told us her condition was too far gone to do anything to stop it." He shook his head. "I thought my wife was depressed and losing her mind but the whole time she was losing her hearing and lying to me. I was so angry. I couldn't understand how she could betray our marriage vows…our trust. And every time I saw Gil in that cast I couldn't forgive her for endangering our son. I mean what if it had been a different type of accident…what if he had been bleeding that whole time? But as angry as I was at her it didn't come close to how angry she was at herself."

"A mother instinctively protects her child…she failed and it had to hurt."

"As hurt as I was, I was desperate to fix the problem…to make everything right…to make her whole again."

"But you couldn't." Sara observed the sadness in his eyes.

"I took a promotion at work…one that plunged me much further into the grey. I figured if I got enough money I would be able to find a specialist who would give us a different answer." Deflated he said, "I eventually learned money can't buy something that doesn't exist. Today they have a procedure…I can't think of what it's called…something with an S…."

"Stapedectomy." Instantly Sara cursed herself for her inability to decline a trivia challenge.

"Gil's had the procedure?" Ron stared at the flustered woman sitting before him. "I know you don't want to give up any information but I see the answer in your eyes. It must have been a success because he would need his hearing to do his job. Good, I'm glad he's okay. Oh and don't worry…you didn't tell me anything, I figured it out."

"He…" As much as she didn't want to say it, she let it spill. "He denied it and hid it from me for years. We um…weren't in a relationship at the time but we were close and I had a hard time understanding why he couldn't tell me." Then she thought of his recent confession about missing his doctor's appointments. "I can empathize."

"The apple didn't fall too far from the tree." Ron sighed. "Does he have his mother's temper too?"

"Her temper?" The question threw her. "No. The only time I've ever seen him angry is during cases when even a Buddhist monk might get irate. Our job…we sometimes deal with unspeakable things. Gil doesn't have a temper. That's one of the reasons I was drawn to him. He's very stable."

**LVPD  
****Police Station  
****11:50 a.m. **

When Grissom opened the door, Hodges was standing there with Carrie.

A second later, Hodges gruffly informed him, "I won't be pressing charges against Sanders."

Carrie winked at Grissom. "After I mentioned that my client, Ms. Tawny Cooper, was considering filing Verbal Assault and Defamation of Character charges for his slanderous comments, Mr. Hodges rethought his position."

Inside the interrogation room, Greg dropped his battered head in his hands. "I take back all the lawyer jokes I ever made."

Grissom waved them both into the room. "So now all we have left is the Disturbing the Peace misdemeanor from the establishment."

Hodges returned to his chair and Carrie took Grissom's spot at the head of the table.

Waving her cell phone, Carrie grinned. "I just spoke with the restaurant manager. If Mr. Hodges and Mr. Sanders agree to pay restitution for damages incurred during the disturbance, plus ten percent for pain and suffering, there won't be any charges. I asked the restaurant manager to fax over an itemized list to my office. After I review it I can draw up a binding agreement for your employees and the restaurant owner to sign. Once the money is received…case closed. By keeping this testosterone-infused incident out of the courts, the taxpayers of Clark County win, you both keep your jobs and I'll only bill you for an hour of my time. So what do you say, boys? Will you take the deal?"

"Yes," They chimed.

"Good answer." She stood and headed for the door. "I'll be in touch. Oh and Greg…Tawny is going to follow me home because she also made a deal with me. She'll be home in an hour."

Hodges glared at Greg. "So she's a _live-in_ stripper. Nice."

"Screw you!"

"Hey! What the? Keep it up and I'll press Stupidity charges against both of you!" Counting the seconds until his days as Supervisor were over, Grissom loomed over the boys. "By the way, you're not home free. You're both going to receive, courtesy of the County, twelve PEAP sessions. David, in addition to that, you get to attend an Alcohol Prevention course because, you weren't just disorderly, you were drunk and disorderly. Greg… don't worry, you get to go to school too…Anger Management 101. Until you complete these requirements your personnel files are flagged. Now…shake hands and convince me that I don't have to worry about the two of you letting this interfere with your work and if you could muster the fortitude, an apology would be nice."

Greg was the first to thrust his hand forward. "I'm sorry for breaking your nose after you callously defamed my girlfriend's character and humiliated her in front of a room full of people. I should know better than to resort to violence to make a point. Oh, and even though I think you're a rat bastard, I won't let my feelings interfere with our working together."

Massaging his temples, Grissom droned, "Your turn, David."

Accepting the handshake, Hodges retorted, "And I'm sorry for publicly discussing your girlfriend's prowess at taking her clothes off and dancing for money. As far as defaming her character…I guess I never considered that a possibility since she was already doing it nightly herself but, I apologize profusely if I did. For the sake of the lab, I won't let the fact you broke my nose in defense of your stripper girlfriend's _honor_ interfere with our working together."

Grissom rolled his eyes. "David, do you have someone to take you to the hospital to have that nose fixed?"

"Yes, my friends are in the waiting area."

"Good." Grissom opened the door. "Since I assume you'll be doped up on pain meds, you have the next two nights off. When you return, I'll have all your counseling and course paperwork waiting for you."

"Sounds like you've done this before," Hodges snipped on the way out the door.

Now that they were alone, Grissom softened towards Greg. "Come on…I'll take you home. I'll even let you pick the radio station."

"Uh oh." Sore from sitting for so long with aching muscles, he slowly rose out of his chair. "The last time you let me pick the radio station disaster struck at the Harper House an hour later."

"I'll tempt fate." He shooed him out of the room. "Let's stop and grab an ice pack for that shiner."

"I can't believe I broke his nose. I've never been in a fight in my entire life…well only on the receiving end of a few in middle school."

Together they walked down the hall.

"Says something how you feel about Tawny, don't you think?"

"I suppose so. Hey…Hodges was right about one thing…this town is filled with men who have seen her stripping…not to mention ones who probably saw her in that damn magazine."

"You can't erase the past, Greg." Grissom held open the door. "If you plan on staying with Tawny, you're going to have to accept this scenario might happen again and learn how to cope with it. Might be a good focus for your counseling sessions."

"I'm a little nervous about that. I've never been in counseling before, have you?"

"Me? Discuss my personal life with a complete stranger?" Chuckling, Grissom extracted his car keys from his pocket. "I'm not much of a talker when it comes to my feelings. I've always been more into storage than sharing."

"Probably why you were single for so long, huh? Chicks like to talk about stuff."

"Get in the car."

"You share stuff with Sara now, don't you?"

Starting the car, he grumped, "If I answered that I'd be sharing with you and violating my non-sharing principle."

"Wow…I've shared so much with you lately." Frowning, he buckled his seat belt. "You can't even answer one question. Kinda one-sided don't you think? I thought we had this bonding thing going on."

"Fine," He replied after backing out of his parking space. "Yes, now I share stuff with Sara. Things I've never told anyone else and yes, sometimes it even feels good…sometimes very good."

"Sometimes?" Greg pondered the limitation. "When _doesn't _it feel good?"

"For the record, this is two things I'm sharing with you." After taking a deep breath, he gave an honest answer. "It doesn't feel good when I stop and think how vulnerable I am now that someone else knows my secrets. By giving away your secrets, you're giving someone else the power to hurt you. Think of what happened with Hodges…he knew about Tawny when you didn't think he did. Once he sensed you were vulnerable about it, he exploited it and hurt you to the point of making you snap."

"Yeah, but you're not telling them to just anyone, you're telling them to Sara…your wife. She'd never hurt you."

"No, she wouldn't and that's the only reason I feel comfortable sharing with her." Smiling, he reached for his cell phone. "That reminds me, I need to call Sara. After I'm done, we'll tempt fate and have you find your radio station."

"Okay…but only if you promise not to step inside any houses waiting to collapse."

"Whatever you say, Greg." Grissom punched in his house phone speed dial number.

After four rings she answered sweetly, "Hi, Honey…"

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

"**Second Chances - Part 3"**

**August 7, 2005 (Day 107)  
****The Grissoms'  
****12:30 p.m. **

Gripping the handle of the phone, Sara asked, "You're calling from your cell. Where are you?" Her heart raced as she considered the possibility he was around the corner. The last thing she wanted was for Gil to be blindsided by his father's presence. There was so much more to his parents' story than he knew and although she felt he needed to know the information, it needed to be presented in the right way…at the right time.

"I'm in my car driving Greggy home from the police station. He decided to break Hodges's nose in the bar of the Squash Blossom Restaurant and then the two of them held a wrestling match on the floor. They got hauled in by Las Vegas's Finest for Disturbing the Peace. Needless to say my stress level is running high this morning. Luckily Greg isn't going to be charged with Assault so he gets to keep his job."

"Wait. What?" She glanced over and saw Ron wandering around the house. "Why were they fighting?"

"You're well-read and watch romance movies. What usually causes a man lose his mind and snap?"

"Um…a woman?"

"Hodges insulted Tawny's character so Greg popped him."

When she saw Ron turn and go down the hall, she gasped. "Um…you know I…can you hold on for a moment?"

"Honey? Are you okay? You sound a little weird. Kind of jittery."

"I'm just worried about Greg." It wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the only truth.

"He's fine. Here, you can talk to him."

"Thanks for worrying about me, Sis. My face is a little messed up, that's all."

"Okay."

"Okay?" He guffawed into the phone. "That was the perfect set up for you to make a joke about my hair! You know…_now your face will match your messed up hair, Greg_. I think Gris is right, you don't sound normal. Are you doing that special health regimen again? Here's your hubby."

"I was um…sleeping when you called," Sara informed him while she wondered where Ron went. "Guess I'm a little slow on the uptake. So um…when are you going to be home?"

"After I drop off the light-weight champion of The Squash Blossom, I'll head back to the office for more paperwork fun. I'll probably leave there around five and come home for a pre-shift power nap, some dinner and…well I can't say because Greg's ears weren't damaged in the fight."

"Okay." She checked her watch. That left plenty of time to get the rest of the Grissom family history and get Ron out of the house. "I'll make you something healthy for dinner."

"Isn't that an oxymoron since your cooking has been known to cause illness?"

Through the receiver, she heard Gil and Greg laughing. "Very funny." Normally she would have laughed but the tension surging through her prevented such a carefree response. "Call me when you're on your way."

"Will do."

"Honey…" Her voice trembled. "I love you."

"I'm always happy to hear that and you know my opinion on the matter."

"Yes, I do." A nervous smile twittered across her lips. "Bye."

"Bye."

**Grissom's Car  
****12:35 p.m.**

"Okay, Greg…find your station," Grissom kept his promise. "We'll listen on the way to Walgreen's to get your first aid supplies and ibuprofen. On the way back, I choose."

Greg happily obliged. "It's oldies day." He tuned the radio and cranked the volume. "Okay Double D…this is Jurassic 5 and the song is called Improvise."

"_This_ is an oldie?" Grissom quizzed as he reluctantly listened to the rap song. "I don't recall rap being around in the _old_ days."

"Well this song is from the 90's, but the group is pure 1970's rhyme-style…pre-hip-hop craze. Here's another music history tidbit for your continuing education…in the 70s, rhyme-style rap was wack and only found on the streets. Then the Sugar Hill Gang released Rapper's Delight and suddenly hip-hop was thrust into the spotlight. At first everyone said the craze would be short lived but it's 2005 and it hasn't died yet."

"Yeah…that's very unfortunate." Grissom groaned. "The metric system didn't catch on, but this stuff did. Unbelievable."

"And you claim to be a lover of poetry?" Greg scoffed, "Rap is the poetry of a different generation. Could you for once open your mind to alternative forms of music? Listen to the words…"

_Who is he, the subtle lip fanatic from unity…demonstrating that ghetto diplomatic immunity…well I'm the style stimulant, sound photosynthesis... super wit the sentences in the land of citrus_.

"Ahh yes…reminds me of a Shakespearian sonnet."

Grooving on Grissom's lack of tolerance, Greg rapped along for the final verse. "And together we show you how to improvise…reminiscent of the wild style 75…'cause it's the brothers on the mike in the place to be…It's the J-U-R-A double S-I-C."

"I have to say, I really prefer my wife singing to me," Grissom informed his tone-deaf passenger as he turned down the volume on the radio.

"Sara sings to you, huh?" Greg wiggled his bruised brows. "That's cool."

"It's one of her many talents." His smile expanded as he considered some of the others.

"My girlfriend has hidden talents too," He boasted.

"I really don't want to hear the details and I'm rather disappointed you're still sharing them after..."

"She's a math genius."

"Really? Now that does interest me." Grissom was expecting to hear something much different. "Wait…she did tell me her father was a math teacher. It must be one of the things she inherited from him. She spoke very highly of him. It was obvious his loss impacted her in so many ways."

Sobering, Greg said, "On the way to brunch this morning she told me the story she told you…about her mom's boyfriend."

"Hard to hear, huh?" He sighed. "You know, if that bastard is still out there, he could have other victims. It was seven years ago, but he could have a new one today." The thought sickened him. "I've been wondering what we can do about that since it's obviously out of our jurisdiction. We can't involve Tawny while she's pregnant because direct confrontation with childhood trauma can be mentally and physically devastating."

"That's the most important thing right now. I don't want anything to happen to her or the baby." Greg was taken aback by his sudden attachment to the baby.

Grissom prodded, "But if the opportunity arises…you know, if she's talking about it, maybe you could get the guy's name from her. If we can get his name we can at least see if he has any priors or anything current."

"Yeah…I've been thinking about that too." Greg glanced out the car window. "So you see…when Hodges objectified her an hour after she told me all this, it was really bad timing…not that there could be good timing, but that's why I lost control. I'm really sorry I caused you so much trouble. I know you would have handled it differently."

Upon parking in the Walgreen's lot, he glanced at Greg. "You wanted me to be more open with you before…what I'm about to say is between you and me. When I was in Tahoe interrogating Rodgers…I lost it. Same situation. He said some nasty things about Sara that made me see red. Before I knew it, I punched him. It's hard for any decent man to keep his cool when a woman is disgraced before him…make it a woman he cares about and the stakes are raised….make it a woman he loves…he's capable of anything. If his actions in Tahoe had killed Sara…I don't know what I would have done."

"It's primal." Greg flashed back to the scene in the desert. "I still don't remember pulling the trigger on Dales Trail."

"You ever have nightmares about it?"

"Sometimes." Looking down he lowered his voice. "It's always the same one. I freeze and he takes the gun. I see him pointing it at Sara and I can't move. Luckily I wake up when the shot is fired."

"Sara's had a few too." His voice dropped. "So have I."

"I'm sure." Sighing, Greg asked, "How long do you think I'll have them? Do you think I have post-traumatic stress disorder?"

Feeling bad that he hadn't asked Greg about it before, he counseled, "It's quite possible that you have a mild temporary case. Some people, when they are exposed to a one-time traumatic event, experience PTSD for months, even years following the incident. For some, symptoms don't manifest until they are triggered by a similar event or characteristic of the event. For example, if you were out hiking in similar terrain and you suddenly heard gunfire, it might induce a fear-based reaction."

"I've heard about that happening to soldiers."

"Right…the condition is most commonly associated with war veterans but rape, molestation and physical abuse victims as well as victims of attacks are also at high risk."

Greg released a heavy sigh. "What am I complaining about, Tawny has been a victim a couple of times…the incident with her mom's boyfriend was bad enough but she was date raped a few years back…talk about guys who deserve grievous bodily harm. But you see, even with all that, Tawny doesn't seem to have a PTSD problem."

"You haven't known her that long. Depressive episodes, the most common symptom, can come and go." Grissom lightened his tone. "Then again, PTSD can cause phobias, particularly social phobias…but I'm confident Tawny doesn't have a social phobia because she's very outgoing. She invades my personal space every time I see her."

Greg smiled. "She is very affectionate."

"And you said she doesn't have a substance or alcohol problem, right?"

"No."

"Greg, in my opinion, lack of self-esteem seems to be her biggest issue. And I think you're already helping her with that and who knows how much progress she'll make spending one hour with Carrie Blake. If that woman's perseverance and positive outlook could be canned and sold, the drug manufacturers of anti-depressants would go belly up."

Proudly Greg admitted, "I convinced Tawny to try out some college courses online. She's registering for Algebra and English Lit."

"That's fantastic." Grissom broke into an approving smile. "Let her know that I'll be happy to help if she needs tutoring." Then he remembered the story he had related to his wife and imagined what her reaction would be. "I meant on English Lit, not Algebra."

"Is your Algebra that bad?"

"No…I have Algebra PTSD."

"Lots of students hate it but… seriously? Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from Algebra? You?" He was puzzled that the genius could have such a problem.

Laughing, Grissom opened his car door. "Same abbreviation but a much different disorder." He could tell Greg was trying to figure out the alternative acronym. "You'll never figure it out so don't bother. And I'm not going to tell you because that's a secret only Sara will ever know."

Meeting Grissom on the sidewalk, Greg teased, "Think we'll get hit on by men again?"

Hurrying to the door, he groaned, "I sincerely hope not because my day has been bizarre enough. But since neither of us needs to buy condoms anymore I think we're safe."

"True…one perk of having a pregnant girlfriend I'm not sleeping with…I'm saving money on condoms." Running his fingers over his battered face, Greg said, "Who knows what people will think with my face looking like this." Chuckling, he said, "I hope they don't think my Sugar Daddy got rough with me."

Holding open the door, Grissom reminded him, "You forget…I'm a famous TV star now. Everyone knows I'm a lovable sap who likes to kiss his wife." Suddenly preoccupied with Sara, he announced, "I'll be in the candy aisle. I'm going to buy my wife some chocolate."

Waking into the store, Greg gushed, "You're such a sweet Sugar Daddy!" Then he realized that everyone within ten feet of him heard the declaration.

"And you wonder why we have a problem when we come here?" Shaking his head, Grissom walked away. "I'll meet you at the car."

**The Grissoms'  
****12:35 p.m. **

As soon as she hung up the phone, Sara took off in search of Ron. "Uh…excuse me! Where the hell are you? Snooping _was not_ part of the arrangement!"

Then she heard the flush of a toilet.

"Oh." Leaning against the wall she waited for the uninvited guest to emerge. "Sorry I accused you of snooping."

"Considering who you were speaking with, I didn't think it prudent to interrupt your phone call and ask for directions. Very nice library by the way. Gil's mother was a voracious reader. Because of her, he had a passion for books at a very early age."

"Books are an excellent way to escape a disappointing reality," She replied while thinking of her own reliance on the coping mechanism. "I'm sure Gil had a lot of escaping to do as a child."

Curious about her conversation with his son, Ron asked, "Did you tell him I was here when you spoke with him on the phone?"

"Are you kidding!" Still shaken from lying to her husband, she barked, "I couldn't drop a bomb like this on him over the phone! Certainly not while he was driving and definitely not when he's not alone. This is going to rock his world. It's rocking mine and you're not even my asshole father! Just because I got caught up in your story doesn't mean I like you! I want to know everything about my husband and you're the only one who can fill in the blanks." Returning to the living room, she blasted her feelings. "You see, I have a bunch of questions for my asshole father but he's dead, so I'll never get a chance to ask him. I don't know if Gil wants a chance to grill you so I'm asking the questions for him."

"And then what?"

"Then, without telling him you're in town, I'll determine if he would want to know. If I sense his answer is yes, I'll fill him in on you coming here. If his answer is no…then I don't know what I'll do because you've put me between a rock and a hard place!" Facing Ron, she emoted beyond what she wanted him to see. "I don't want to _lie _to my husband, but I don't want to cause him pain by opening and throwing salt on an old wound. When you abandoned him, you screwed with his mind and it has taken _decades _for him to learn to trust. He finally trusts me. He's happy now. We're happy. We're trying to start our own family. I don't want anything to jeopardize our relationship because I waited my whole god damn life to find this kind of love and security. What if seeing you causes him to revert back to his old untrusting self?"

"Sara…I never intended to cause you or Gil any pain," He pleaded.

"How exactly were you going to prevent that!" She panted from ranting. "You show up _forty years_ after abandoning your son and expect him _not _to get upset when he sees you? You're delusional! Why are you here? I'm still waiting for an answer to that question!" Marching towards the kitchen she snapped, "Tell me right now or I'm kicking you out!"

"I saw your photograph in the newspaper," He hastily replied. "I've always kept tabs on my son and when I found out he almost died I felt compelled to see him…to tell him I was proud of him for so many reasons. I know it's too late but I wanted to apologize and tell him how wrong I was for cutting him out of my life. I feel like I owe him that knowledge."

"Why not write it in a letter?" She countered.

"We both know he wouldn't read it." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he somberly said, "And I wanted him to know because…I want to make sure he wasn't the type of man who would repeat the legacy of the Grissom men…turning his back on his family. You see…my father cut me off completely. I cut Gil off emotionally, but still supported him financially. Each generation should improve. I wanted to see in him the ability to be the man my father and I weren't. If I could see that then I could walk away with the knowledge I didn't ruin him and he would emphatically have what I always wanted…the knowledge that the _son_ is a better man than the father."

Her ire still building, she snipped, "He already knows that, so you can go back home and sleep better at night."

"Look…you said it yourself…I messed him up. Well, I want to give him an opportunity to rip me a new one and rid himself of the animosity that's pent up inside him. I want to give him a chance for closure. I don't expect to win back a spot in his life if that's what you think. I fully expect him to read me the riot act, kick me to the curb and never speak with me again…that will be fine with me."

"So what's in it for you?" She snapped.

"I need the closure too. I didn't have a chance to give it of get it from Jillian and it's haunted me. I want Gil to have a chance."

"What makes you think he wants it?" Opening the fridge, she grabbed the large bottle of cranberry juice and unscrewed the lid while walking to the counter. "What makes you think he didn't already achieve closure without you? A person can achieve closure without direct confrontation."

"You've been in therapy too I see." He guessed from her choice of words. "You mentioned issues with your own father and how you had questions you wish you could ask. Why not give Gil that opportunity?"

"He's not me. He deals with things differently!" In her anger, she dropped the plastic bottle on the large kitchen throw rug, sending dark red juice splashing everywhere. "Damn it!"

Ron rushed over to help. "Here let me…" When he reached the kitchen he saw Sara sitting on the floor crying. "Please…"

"…_don't cry, Jillian," He soothed as he walked over and sat beside her on the kitchen floor so she could read his lips. "I will find a doctor and you'll be back to new in no time." _

"_And if you can't? I know you don't want me like this. I'm not the woman you fell in love with." _

"_That's not true!" _

"_When you're away on business you meet all kinds of women. Women like I used to be…fun, interesting women. Women who are whole. What a disappointment it must be to come home to me after spending time with them." _

"_I've never cheated on you, Jillian. I will **never** cheat on you." He gripped her by the shoulders. "But you can't keep shutting me out. I need my wife back. We need our life back. We still have a life, you're choosing not to be a part of it. You lock yourself in this house. You keep Gil locked in here with you. It's not fair. You spend all your time reading books trying to escape reality rather than coping with this hand we were dealt." _

"_Just leave me alone." She turned away so she couldn't see his lips. _

_Reaching out he turned her head. "If you keep asking me to leave you alone…one day I might take you up on the offer because I can't live like this forever, Jillian. Being apart but living together is slowly killing me. You know you're all I have. I walked away from everything because I believed in our love. Now you've taken that away from me and I'm alone. I'm working my ass off and I need some semblance of a personal life. I need intimacy. I need you to touch me! It's been two years!" _

"_You have a plane to catch. I'm sure there is plenty of life in Amsterdam." _

"_I'm serious, Jillian. I'll be back in two weeks. Think long and hard about what I said." Standing up, he watched his wife turn away. In a whisper he knew she couldn't hear, he said, "I love you but I'm getting tired, Jillian. I'm getting bitter. I'm losing my patience. I meant what I said…you're pushing me out the door and one day I'm going to keep walking. Please…" _

"…don't cry, Sara." Ron searched the kitchen for the location of the paper towels. "I'll help you clean this up and then I'll leave. You never have to mention I was here."

Through her tears, she asked her next question. "Why couldn't you keep in touch with him? He would have been satisfied with a weekly phone call. Was that so much to ask? Would that have been such a horrific inconvenience to your new family?"

With the paper towels in hand, he walked over to her and explained, "Because every time I stopped by or called I upset Jillian. There was too much anger and no closure. We still loved and hated each other too much to be amicable. As time passed, it got uglier and uglier and when she got upset, Gil got upset. He was always in the middle of us. I hated that, but she wouldn't sign with me. It got worse…I even started threatening to take Gil away from her but I traveled so much that wouldn't have been fair." Ripping off a wad of towels, he wiped down the cabinets. "Besides, he was the only thing she had so…I couldn't do it. Eventually I thought it was best for everyone's mental health if we avoided the confrontation. I stopped coming by and I stopped calling. I just sent the monthly checks with a note…the notes got smaller over time and eventually, I just sent the checks."

Wiping her tears, Sara coolly remarked, "What gives parents the right to put their own needs before their child?" The chill in her voice mirrored the chill running through her body as she stared him down. "Your father may have cut you off, but you were _twenty-two years old._ You have no idea what it feels like, to be a frightened, abandoned_ nine year old_. _You_ don't know what it feels like but _I know_. I know the kind of _pain _it causes. Shaking with anger, she snarled, "Take a long, hard look at me. Do_ I_ look like I'm over it? Is _this_ what you came here to see from Gil? This kind of heartache? Well, guess what…you'll have to be satisfied seeing me suffer, because I'm not going to tell him you came here today. You're as dead to him as my father is to me and there's no point in resurrecting you because you don't have any _good _answers! Now I know my father wouldn't have any either because, there are no good answers to the question, _why did you think it was okay to make your child pay the price for your cowardice?_ Both you and Jillian were _guilty _of that crime as were my parents. Gil and I were just innocent victims of our parents' selfish actions. You could have found a way to stay! My mother could have found a way to take with me her and leave my father! Gil and I are entitled to be angry. You gave us that right! The right to _hate _you! To _never_ forgive you for what you did. It's our _choice_ to forgive. You can't earn our forgiveness no matter how much you plead."

"Please calm down," He softly asked while kneeling before her. "Can I get you something?"

His face blurred with her father's as she raged, "Why couldn't you be a better man? You said you loved us. I wanted you to show it not say it! I _hate _you for what you did! Do you hear me? I hate you!"

"Sara!"

As she caught her breath and regained control over the next couple of minutes, she saw it was once again Gil's father kneeling before her. "Uh…wow…I uh…I don't think I have to worry about writing that letter anymore."

The range of emotions he just witnessed left him dizzy. "What letter?"

The realizations lingered with Sara and for the first time ever when thinking about her parents, a sense of calm washed over her. "Dr. Myers never provoked that kind of reaction from me. I think you just saved your son a bunch of money on my therapy sessions. He'll hate that."

"I'm so sorry, Sara." Ron reached out and helped her up off the floor. "You're right, I don't have _good_ answers…I only have truthful ones. We were cowards…very dysfunctional human beings, and there's no way to make things right. I thought telling the truth would somehow bring peace, but from your intense reaction I know I was mistaken."

"Maybe not…" Swallowing the lump in her throat, she explained, "That was vicariously cathartic for me. I can only imagine how much better it would be if it were the real deal." Leaning against the fridge, she searched her soul. "If I could learn there was a time when my parents were happy and know for a fact that I was born out of love it would make a difference. If I could know for certain that my parents loved me and wanted the best for me, but just didn't know how to get it right…it would bring some peace of mind. If I could hear them apologize for their actions I would definitely listen. And I think we both know if I could tell them how they made me feel I would." Staring at the bewildered man in front of her, she informed him, "I don't know if it would be enough to let me forgive them but, I know it would help me feel better."

"So…are you saying you still might tell Gil?" His tone was hopeful. "I won't approach him. I'll leave it entirely up to you."

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I know he doesn't have closure because he's still angry at you. He couldn't even talk about you until a month ago. I hate to make him go through the pain, but I also think it could free him of forty years worth of pent up emotions. The fact that he has started talking about you is a sign he might be ready to confront you." Walking over to the pantry, she grabbed a bottle of cleanser. "While you're rolling up the rug and helping me clean this mess, tell me a good memory about your son. But not the rollercoaster story…that's the only one I know. I'm optimistic that you have more than one."

"Have you ever wondered how Gil first got interested in bugs?" He jovially asked as he rolled up the stained kitchen rug. "After he broke his foot in the crib accident, it was hard for him play outside so…"

**Greg's Apartment  
****12:59 p.m. **

As Grissom pulled up to the curb he pointed to Tawny rounding the corner from the parking lot. "How's that for perfect timing? Now you have someone to help patch your boo-boos, Slugger."

"Thanks again for everything." He grabbed his plastic shopping bag. "I'll see you tonight for shift," He said upon opening the car door.

"Don't spend too much time on your hair because everyone will be looking at your Technicolor face." He pointed to his eye. "You have some very nice blues and purples coming in and black is only a couple of hours away."

"I'll wear a really loud shirt to distract everyone," He laughingly replied before shutting the car door and waving.

When Grissom saw Tawny rush Greg and throw her arms around him, he thought…I'm only fifteen minutes from home, why not surprise Sara with the chocolate and take a few minutes to decompress before returning to the office? Smiling, he put the car in drive and pulled away.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

"**Second Chances - Part 4"**

**August 7, 2005 (Day 107)  
****Greg's Apartment  
****1:05 p.m.**

Sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen counter, Greg grimaced as Tawny dabbed antiseptic on the cut over his eyebrow. "That stuff stings."

"I really think this should have been stitched because it's pretty deep," She scolded him as she smoothed a heavy Band-Aid over the open wound. "Do you think Hodges is current on his rabies shot?"

"This cut isn't from him." Greg gingerly felt the bandage with his fingertips. "I slammed my own face into the leg of a chair when I was trying to jump to my feet."

"Nice going." Running her fingers through his hair, she checked for additional bumps and bruises. "Good thing you get to keep your job at the Crime Lab because I don't think you'd be much of a professional boxer."

"Hey now." Her gentle touch sent a delightful shiver through his damaged body. "I haven't had a lot of experience at bar room brawls."

"Because you haven't hung around a girl with a lackluster reputation before now." Instantly she heard Carrie Blake's voice in her head shouting…_Hey, Low-Self-Esteem Girl! Stop the self-loathing defeatist behavior. _

"No…" Reaching up, he caressed her cheek. "Because I never felt so strongly about something before now. You're having my baby. I'll do anything to protect you. That's why I promise not to lose it like that again. If I'm not employable I won't be able to support you and the baby."

His soft touch and his tender words fueled her romantic feelings for him. "Does your jaw hurt?" She lovingly asked as she lightly traced the outline of the bruise. "It looks painful."

"Nah." He flashed a reassuring smile. "After suffering through third-degree burns in the lab explosion pain is a relative concept." He had told her about the incident the first night they were together, when she asked about the scars on his back. "This is nothing."

"Very true." Matching his smile's intensity, she said, "You'll have to remind me of that when I'm in labor."

"Here's what I learned from the burn experience…get as much pain-numbing medication as quickly as possible. When the time comes, I'll suggest you do the same." Lowering his hand, he delicately placed it on Tawny's flat stomach. "I know you won't look different for a while but, do you feel anything yet?"

"I get these weird sensations…kind of like things are stretching inside me."

"Really?" The sparkle in her eyes fed his growing emotions.

Giggling, she added, "And on Friday, my boobs started to hurt like hell. Thank god I'm not stripping anymore because if I had to toss the girls around I think I'd pass out!" Excitement flowed in her voice as she continued. "I'm not craving anything yet and I don't feel sick, but it's too early for that stuff. Last night when I needed a math break, I searched AOL for pregnancy information. I need to start eating healthier and taking vitamins. Oh, and I need to see a doctor in the next couple of weeks. Would you go with me to the appointment?"

"I wouldn't miss it." Standing up, he slipped his hands around her waist. "I have no idea why, but today out of nowhere, my paternal instinct kicked in. I want to be a part of everything."

Melting from the dedication brimming in his eyes, she sighed, "And I want you Greg…I mean…I want you to be there for everything." When her words stopped, she left her lips parted hoping he would inch closer and lower his mouth to hers.

"Tawny, I…" Suddenly he was at the mercy of a gravitational pull toward her shiny pink lips. "…I really think we should…"

Surprisingly gentle in nature, the kiss set off a tingle in the pit of her stomach that spread throughout her receptive body. It wasn't the hungry kiss of a booty call…it wasn't the playful smooch of a casual lover…and it wasn't the obligatory kiss from someone walking out the door saying I'll call you. _This kiss_ had meaning. _This kiss_ spoke volumes and the first words it uttered to her were, _once upon a time…_

**The Grissoms'  
****1:15 p.m. **

Now that the kitchen had been cleaned and the stained rug taken to the garage, Sara poured another glass of ice water for Ron hoping he would bestow a few more precious tidbits about Gil. The bug stories he told about her husband almost made his unnerving and unwelcome presence worthwhile. "Here you are." She placed the full glass on the coffee table.

"Thank you, Dear."

"Were you there for his first day of school?" She asked while she watched him take a seat on the couch and sip his water.

"Not Kindergarten, but I was there for his first day of preschool." Tired from helping Sara cleanup the kitchen, Ron relaxed on the couch. "He was the only preschooler who showed up clutching a tattered copy of Shakespeare's sonnets instead of a stuffed animal. Jillian always read to him from it and he wouldn't leave it at home that day. He insisted on bringing a book to school in case they didn't have any. So the first day of preschool, he showed up quoting the Bard, finger spelling in sign-language, reciting his times-tables and picking up bugs off the playground to keep in his pockets. Needless to say the other kids found him a little quirky."

The visual was too much. "That's the man I know and love!" Sara gleefully exclaimed. "I really hope we have a boy just like him." And as she stood in the center of the room laughing and thinking of her future child, she heard the front door open.

"Oh no." Her breath catching in her throat, she whimpered, "He's home. He's not supposed to be home."

"Honey?" Grissom stepped into the hallway swinging the Walgreen's bag full of chocolate. "I heard you laughing, what silly movie are you watching this time? Bridget Jones Two again? I've got some candy you can eat while enjoying it."

She knew the shock of seeing his father here would obliterate her husband. "Don't say anything," She pleaded in a whisper to Ron. "While I keep him in the bedroom, you get your ass out of here."

Cooperating, he acknowledged her with a quick nod.

Racing down the main hall, Sara greeted Gil with open arms. "What are you doing home? You said you wouldn't be home until five."

After devouring her with a kiss, he sighed pleasurably. "I missed my wife. See…" He handed over the bag. "…I even brought you candy."

Nestling against him, she replied, "I missed you too." His happiness only accelerated her panic and she was determined to do anything to prevent a scene.

Holding her Grissom said, "I was hoping for a few minutes of TLC to calm my nerves. After this fiasco with Greg and Hodges, I'm a little worked up." Then he thought back to the conversation with Brass and Lady Heather. "Really, Honey…I'm having the strangest day. I'll tell you about it, but I'm thirsty, so first let me grab a cold drink."

"Come crawl under the covers with me." With a vice grip on his arm she started leading him toward the bedroom instead of the kitchen. "I'll make you forget all your stress."

Normally he would be thrilled by the idea, but since he was very behind on administrative paperwork and Brass was returning tomorrow, he couldn't spare the time. Halting her, he apologetically said, "Honey…I'd love to, but there's not enough time. I have to get back to…" His words were cut off when she pressed him against the wall and covered his mouth with a persuasive kiss.

"You don't have to worry about me, Baby." Tugging at his belt, she purred in his ear, "It's just about you today. Come on…I'll take care of you and then you can return to work relaxed and be a lot more productive." Grabbing his arm, she yanked him down the hall.

"Sara!" Gaping at her, he playfully exclaimed, "Aren't you quite the vixen today? What have the neighbors been feeding you? Aphrodisiac brownies?"

"Blanche did say there was a secret ingredient."

Laughing, he stopped as they turned down the bedroom hallway. "You don't have to do …" Then he realized how insane he would be to pass up her generous offer. "Okay, you twisted my arm…literally! But I need a bottle of water first. I've been out driving all over the place and it's 112 outside." Breaking into a delicious laugh, he told her, "I'm so thirsty I won't be able to moan."

"I'll get it!" She resumed dragging him towards the bedroom. "Put on some sultry music while you wait for me to return."

"Sorry, you have me wound up now and I'm not letting you out of my sight." Mimicking her salaciousness, he chomped on her neck. "I'll just take a seat in my favorite chair and wait for you to service me…I mean, bring me my water."

At her wits end she blurted, "I prefer the bedroom!"

"What is with you? It's not like we haven't fooled around in the living room," He chuckled. "I distinctly remember several times on…"

"Why are you being so difficult about this?" She sensed her façade was cracking and she struggled to hold it together.

"Me? You're the one hell bent on getting me into the bedroom. It's like you don't want me to see something in the kitchen." When he saw her react nervously to what he thought was a joke, his smile began to fade. "Sara?"

"What?" On the verge of insanity, she jittered a smile. "I just prefer the intimacy of the bedroom." She knew he wasn't buying it because it was obvious to her that he saw her body shaking and the terror in her eyes. After all, he made his living reading people and figuring out what they were hiding.

"If you prefer the bedroom, then _you _go to there and I'll meet you." Swallowing hard, he fought his mind's determination to jump to horrible conclusions. "You're scaring me Sara. I heard you laughing when I came in. Why were you laughing? What are you hiding? I don't smell alcohol on your breath so that's not what you're hiding in the kitchen. And I know it's not something good because you look like you're about to vomit." His paranoia intensified as he watched her avert her eyes. "My god, Sara …you can't look at me? _Look at me!_"

Cupping his face with her trembling hands, she groveled, "I love you so much…I never meant for you to get hurt…I…."

"Hurt? What did you do?" With raw desperation in his voice, he asked, "Are you saying…do you have someone here with you?" Sickened, he backed away. "No…I can't believe you would…this can't be happening."

The sheer terror on his face incited her to yell. "No!" Horrified that she made him think the worst, she lunged for his hand as he pushed past her. "I'm not cheating on you! I could never…" But before she could reveal the secret, he broke free and made his own mind-blowing discovery.

Rushing to his side, she heard the rapid intake of his breath. "I wanted to prepare you. I didn't want him to surprise you like this."

Rendered numb from the shock, Grissom stood with his mouth open staring at the ghost. In his wildest nightmares, he never saw this scenario…his wife colluding with his absentee father in his own house.

"Sara's right, Gil." Ron took a step closer. "I approached her this morning to ask her opinion on if or how I should go about this. I didn't want to blindside you."

"Honey?" Sara gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know…"

"No..." Backing away from his wife, Grissom stammered, "This…no…this isn't..." In an instant his world collapsed and the ability to trust his wife was part of the rubble.

The anguish on his son's face was much worse than Sara predicted and Ron sought to control the situation. "I'm sorry it's happening this way, Gil."

Hearing his father's voice speak words that were all too familiar from childhood…_I'm sorry…_snapped Grissom out of his stupor. In a whisper, he said, "You're sorry?" And when his anger boiled to the surface, his voice found its power. "You're sorry? _You're sorry_! You've never been sorry for anything in your whole god damn life! I can't believe you have the audacity to show up at _my _house after _forty years_! How dare you!"

Ron stood there lifeless, taking exactly what he thought he deserved.

"Honey, please…" Sara cautiously approached. "If you could…"

Grissom side-stepped his wife to get closer to the repugnant man taking up space in the living room. Through clenched teeth, he snarled, "I made it perfectly clear on my 18th birthday that you were dead to me. _Dead! _You are nothing but an apparition of a pathetic man I once mistakenly called my father! Here's a news flash…I don't believe in ghosts. I stopped believing in my father when I was nine!"

Ron held up his hands. "You have every right to hate me and…"

"Did you think I needed _permission_ to hate you? Is that why you're here? To tell me it's okay to hate you? Fear not, I was doing an outstanding job before today." Closing the gap between them, Grissom unleashed another level of rage. "I could hate you for a different reason every damn day for the rest of my life and not run out! Do you want some examples? Let's not even bother with the obvious ones like you lying to my face and never bothering to call or see me. Or you treating me like a monthly expense!" Glancing over at Sara, he sarcastically snapped, "Hey, Honey, you love finding out stuff about my past…now's your chance to hear about some real dirty laundry, listen up!"

"Please calm down," Sara pleaded. She had never seen him in a prolonged state of agitation and it was tearing her apart.

"Back off, Sara," He sharply warned.

"You're scaring me!" His unrelenting anger triggered the memory of her father's tirades and her gut twisted into a tight knot as she tried to block the scenes flashing in her head.

Ignoring his wife's protestations, Grissom paced the room like a caged lion. "Here's a favorite…what kind of man flaunts the fact that he _screwed _other women while he was married? What kind of man flaunts it to his ex-wife _years_ after the fact and in front of his seven year old son! I was standing right there when you were arguing! Did you think I wouldn't get it? Did you forget I was a genius? Not that it took one to figure it out! Biologically I knew what it meant and the psychological part was easy to decipher when I watched my mother _bawling_ _her eyes out_ _for hours_ after you left! You left a seven year old boy to deal with his heartbroken mother! Do you have any idea how wrong that is? What kind of damage that did to me?"

Flustered by the onslaught and unsure how to diffuse the situation, Ron made a weak attempt. "Gil…you don't know the whole story. You have a child's perspective. Your mother and I…it's complicated…we…"

Lunging for his father, he grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you _dare_ say anything bad about her!" He waited, hoping the bastard would ignore his advice.

Remembering Sara had described her husband as a stable man, and having recently learned the girl's painful family history, Ron kept his focus on her deteriorating mental state. "Gil…I deserve all of this and I'm more than happy to take it, but your wife is getting very upset. Look at her, will you? Please stop."

"**_You _**are worried about _my wife_?" Outraged at the idea, he barked, "You didn't give a shit about your own wife but you care about mine? Exactly how much did the two of you bond behind my back? How long has this been going on between you and Sara? Were the two of you planning a birthday surprise? Because I know how much you like showing up right before my birthday to ruin my life."

"Please calm down, Son."

Grissom raged, "Don't_ ever _call me that! You gave up the right to call me that!"

"Stop! I can't handle this!" Sara rushed over and begged," Please let go of him. Let go and I'll kick his ass to the curb. Okay? We'll talk…just you and me." Memories of childhood pleas echoed in her head…_let go of her …I think you're hurting her…don't do that anymore. _"Please!"

"No way!" Grissom tightened his grip as rage yielded to fury. "He's going to hear what I have to say about my mother. I don't care what happened between my mother and you The bottom line is…my mother _stayed_. Get it…_you left_…_she stayed_. She _cared_ for me…you _avoided_ me. Everything I am today is because of her, and everything I'm not is because of _you_!" In an icy voice, he warned, "If you say an unkind word about her in my presence, I won't guarantee your safety. So think long and hard about what you're going to say because I know a dozen ways to dispose of a body and never get caught."

In the corner of the room, Sara shivered from her husband's chilling words…words she didn't know he could utter…in a rage she didn't know he could manifest. Once again she was gripped by traumatic recollections…_if you touch me again I'll kill you…I mean it this time! _

Seeing Sara inching toward a nervous breakdown, Ron appeased his son. "Gil, I never deserved a woman as wonderful as your mother. That's what I came to tell you…I'm sorry for hurting her. I was a despicable bastard." When he felt his son's grip loosen, he inhaled sharply. "Jillian did a fantastic job raising you. I don't take credit for anything."

"Good." Backing off, he removed his hands from the man's shirt. "Now wait here while I write you a check."

"A check?" Ron asked. "I don't need your money."

"Correction. I don't need_ your_ money. I'm returning all the child support plus interest over forty years because I want to be able to say you _gave_ me **_nothing_**." Grissom hurried toward his office. "Unfortunately, I'll still have to live with the knowledge that you played two roles in my life…sperm donor and loan officer."

Ron glanced over at Sara, who was hiding in the corner of the room holding her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

Plagued by excruciating flashbacks, she remained frozen and didn't respond.

Doing as he was asked, Ron stayed put in the living room. Although he was confident closure was being achieved, he feared it came at a price which was too high for Sara.

"Here!" Grissom grabbed his father's hand and slapped a check in it. "Fifty grand should cover it. And if you're thinking I have any of mom's money from the house you purchased, you're mistaken. After she died I donated the proceeds of her estate to her favorite art museum in her name."

"I don't need this money, Gil. You're starting a family, you keep it."

Disgusted, he sighed, "Are you even going to fail me when it comes to this?"

Folding the check in half, Ron stuck it in his shirt pocket. "I'll make sure it goes to a good cause."

"Now that we've taken care of business…" Grissom pointed to the hall. "It's time for you to crawl back under the rock from whence you came."

"I sincerely wish you the best, Gil." Ron proclaimed as he walked towards the hall.

"Feel free to come back and see me in another forty years!" He energetically snarked while following him to edge of the room to ensure he wouldn't veer off course. "Close that door on your way out, thanks."

When the front door snapped shut, Sara was jolted out of her trancelike state. Still tucked away in the corner of the room, she slowly she lifted her eyes. Instinctively she scanned the area for damage...damage to the house…damage to her mother.

Grissom, unnerved by the altercation, sank into his favorite chair and lowered his throbbing head into his shaking hands.

Upon seeing Gil, Sara returned to the present and pushed past her fears and insecurities to tend to her distraught husband. "Honey…are you okay?" She asked as she knelt before him, placing her hands on his knees. "What can I do to help?" Her worst nightmare for him had come true and all she wanted to do was erase his pain. "Honey?"

Like a curtain parting, his hands moved from their position over his pain-filled eyes. "You've already done more than enough," He rasped. "I can't believe you did this to me."

His hostile demeanor startled her. "I…I just wanted…"

"_You just wanted what!"_ He barked. "You just wanted to give the bastard a chance to rip out my heart again? You just wanted to destroy my peace of mind? You just wanted to see what it would be like to betray me? You just wanted to ruin the trust between us? Which is it, Sara? Or is it all of the above!"

"Please don't do this," She pleaded as she took his hand in hers. "If you listen to…"

Yanking his hand away, he screamed, "For forty years I locked that man out of my life! Why would you let him in? _Why!_ If you didn't know what he did to me I could understand. _But you knew!_ I confided in you! You are the _only _person I've ever told. I trusted you and _you betrayed me_! _You lied to me_!"

Vehemently shaking her head, she implored, "No…no, I didn't. I…"

"Now you're lying to my face!" He snarled. "He was here when I called you on the phone! I asked you what was wrong and you said you were worried about Greg. You lied _then_ and you're lying _now_!"

Confused, she stammered, "I wasn't…I didn't want to…yes, I lied but only because…"

"Stop it! Stop making excuses!" Catapulted to a new level of disgust, he leapt out of the chair. "I can't believe you!" Looming over her, he shook his head. "You lied again when I came home…you pretended you wanted to _screw me_ to hide the fact that you were _screwing me over_ in the other room! He was right here listening to us the whole time and you knew that! You were making a fool out of me in front of him!"

Sitting against the chair, she brought her knees to her chest. "No…I was trying to protect you."

Leaning over, he drilled his pointed finger into the arm of the chair. "You stopped protecting me the second you let that arrogant son of a bitch into this house! As my wife…as the only living person who knows what that man did to me and my mother…you should have slammed the door in his face! Unless you're going to tell me he forced his way in. Did he?"

"No," She whispered.

"I didn't think so because it sounded like you were having a grand 'ol time in here before I interrupted the party."

Exasperated, she replied, "We weren't partying…I wasn't entertaining him."

"Oh, you weren't? Are you sure you're not lying?" Marching over to the coffee table, he picked up the tray of baked goods. "Let's examine the evidence, shall we? _Food!"_

When the tray hit the wall Sara gasped and jumped to her feet. "I can't stand seeing you like this! Stop it!"

He didn't hear her as he slipped further into an unbalanced fury. "Hey look what I found…two drinking glasses." Feigning an innocent tone, he quizzed, "Were you doubling up, Honey, or did you entertain Ron with a beverage?" He picked up the first glass and inspected it. "Lip gloss…and it matches yours." Gently he returned the glass to the coffee table and retrieved the other one. "Hmm…no lip gloss on this one." Glaring at his wife, he asked, "Do I have to print it or are you_ finally _going to behonest with me?"

Standing firm, she answered, "He's an old man and it's 112 outside. Yes, I gave him a glass of water."

"Aww." Tightening his grip on the glass, he crossed the room until he stood in front of his wife. "You felt sorry for him," He whispered. "You felt sorry for the man who walked out on me when I was kid. A man who betrayed his wife and his wedding vows…wow. I'm in awe of your compassion." Flippantly he mused, "Too bad your father's dead or I could reciprocate…maybe take him out for a couple of beers…assure him that although he beat your mother regularly I don't mind hanging out with him. Afterwards, I could invite him over to watch a ballgame and if it was a hot afternoon, I could give him a nice cold glass of water. How would you like that, Sara? Would that be okay? Would you feel _protected _if I did that?"

Swallowing hard, she squeaked, "It's not the same."

"Why? Because it's _your_ father and not _mine_?"

"Because he physically abused my mother."

"Now that's really something coming from you. Do you really believe what you're saying?" Gritting his teeth he lashed out. "Physical abuse…mental abuse…it's all abusive! Two men…different weapons…same goal!" Holding up the glass, he yelled, "And I don't think either one of those bastards is worthy of _my spit_ no less a god damn glass of _my water_ in _my home_!"

Sara watched in horror as the glass smashed against the wall…the sound another echo from her childhood and the image of the shards a familiar sight.

"You still aren't getting it, Sara!" His voice flamed with contempt. "Look at me!"

When she did, she was impaled by his reproachful stare. "I…" Backing away, she covered her mouth with her hands.

"What is it going to take to make you get it!" Her traitorous actions were gnawing at him and second by second he felt the toll of their destruction. Standing in the middle of the room, his eyes flooded with pain as his head pulsated. "How can I make you understand what you've done to me?"

With her back to the wall, she felt the first sting of tears and the voice of her mother begging her father to listen popped into her head…_let me explain…if you would just let me explain you would know I'm not lying to you…I wasn't betraying you…I was just talking to the guy! _

With his hand over his heart he informed her in a tormented voice, "If I had come home and found you in bed riding Hank Peddigrew…it wouldn't have hurt _half as much_ as this." Crossing the room, he stood in front of her, scalding her with his eyes while he burned from her betrayal. "Now do you understand?"

Comprehending the depth of the betrayal for the first time, she shuddered. It had taken so much less to incite her father. Trembling she wondered, would her own husband cross the line now that he believed she had intentionally inflicted such incredible pain? "Stay away from me," She pleaded in a shaky voice as her husband's face blurred into her father's. "Stay away from me."

Her words were like salt to his open wounds. "What?" Suddenly he saw a way to escape the prolonged agony and jumped at the chance. Flippantly he said, "Could you repeat that, Sweetie? What do you want me to do? Because I'll do whatever you ask." Take the bait Sara…do it and make this easy for both of us. Say it, Sara because I can't take another minute.

"I said, stay away from me!" Frantic from seeing him so out of control, she blasted, "Stay the hell away from me!"

Backing off, he smiled. "No problem because the last place I want to be is anywhere near you." Turning his back on her, he walked out of the room, down the hall and out the front door.

Anguish enveloping her, Sara slid down the wall. "I'm alone again," She announced in a barren voice to the empty room. "I betrayed him…what I did tore him apart. Oh my god…he's gone and he may not come back." With the back of her hand, she wiped away her tears. "But after seeing him like that…" Her tears strengthened to sobs. "…he wouldn't listen to me…he didn't even give me a chance…I won't make the same mistake as my mother…I'm not sticking around to see how much worse it gets."

**Mandalay Bay Hotel  
****2:15 p.m.**

Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, Ron Grissom closed his eyes and heard the echo of his son's hate-fueled words… what kind of man flaunts the fact that he screwed other women while he was married?

"A desperate coward," He answered as he fell back against the bedding and into the memory.

_As he did every time he arrived home from a business trip, Ron placed his suitcase on his wife's bed as she requested. Although she had turned away from him intimately and emotionally, she had insisted on taking care of his lesser needs…like washing his dirty laundry. _

_After five years, their marriage was no more than a business arrangement in his eyes. He brought home a substantial paycheck and in return she made sure he had home cooked meals, clean clothes and fresh linens on his bed in the guest room._

_Predictably, she opened his suitcase and in silence began sorting the items in preparation for washing. And just as he did every time she completed the ritual, he stood watching in the corner of the room. _

_It won't be long now, he thought as she lifted the top layer of shirts. I've given it five years and I'm done. I've been done for a while…you know that. You won't be my partner, but you don't believe in divorce. When I arrived in Hong Kong last week, the first thing I thought of was that I'd eventually have to come home to you…to this lie. I couldn't stand the thought of living like this for another day. I couldn't come home again and pretend this is normal. Keep sorting that laundry, Jillian. I think you'll change your mind about divorce. I did something to make it easy for you. Now you'll beg me to leave. Your pride will make you do it. I'm counting on it. Hurry, because I can't take another minute with you. Just one more layer…_

_When she lifted her husband's grey trousers, Jillian froze. From the pile of white undershirts beneath, a trace of red lace peeked through. Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers around the garment and in horror, extracted it from the suitcase. As the color drained from her face, she turned to her husband. _

_Already dead from her betrayal of their vows, Ron shrugged and spoke clearly so she could easily read his lips. "Say it, Jillian. Say it!"_

"_Get out," She replied while gulping for air. _

"_That's what I've been trying to do for the last two years," He calmly replied. "Thank you for finally seeing the light." _

_Throwing the offensive garment at him, she shouted, "Get out! Get out!" _

"_I'll have my attorney's office deliver the divorce papers in the morning," He coolly informed her before heading for the door. And when he knew she couldn't see his lips, he said, "I don't know who I hate more right now…me or you." _

**Grissom's Car  
****2:20 p.m. **

Parked in the far corner of an empty lot, Grissom looked out the front window of the vehicle and into his past.

_When he walked through the front door, Gil saw his mother painting in front of the bay window. Dropping his bag full of middle school books, he approached her and tapped her on the shoulder. "I'm home. I'll be in my room."_

_Reading her son's eyes, Jillian signed, "Are you okay?" _

"_I'm fine." He knew she would see otherwise. She always did. _

"_Another problem at school?" _

"_I don't want to talk about it," He signed, hoping she would let it go. _

"_It's those kids again, isn't it?" Her ire surfaced. "I told you to stay away from them. They'll only keep hurting you." _

"_I really thought she liked me…I mean…they liked me." _

_Lowering her brush, she lectured, "You know you can't trust other people, Gil. Look at what your father did to us. You don't need those kids in your life. Stay away from them. I can't stand to see you this way. It's like seeing your father betray you again. Please listen to me this time. Stop setting yourself up to get hurt. You have to protect yourself out there because no one else will." _

"_I know. I know." _

"_Shakespeare said…**Don't trust the person who has broken faith once**. Walk away, Gil. Don't let those kids keep hurting you. Every time you give someone your trust they hurt you. People are all the same. I learned that the hard way. Please learn from my mistake because I won't be able to protect you forever. You are so special…so gifted. You don't need people to validate you. You're like me…you're fine on your own. You're safe on your own. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes, mom." He nodded. "I promise." _

"I thought she was different," He whispered. "But you were right…just like the opera…cosi fan tutte…they're all like that…not to be trusted."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

"**Second Chances – Part 5"**

**August 7, 2005 (Day 107)  
****McCarran Airport  
****7:05 p.m. **

Casually strolling through Terminal C with their carry-ons tossed over their shoulders, the vacationers reminisced about their trip.

Pointing at her travel partner, Heather boasted, "Your face when I turned you down the second night…priceless. I didn't even care that I lost the bet the next night after leaving you so high and dry the night before." Afraid she was laughing too loudly, Heather covered her mouth with her hand.

"Do you know how much I spent on in-room movies that night thanks to you?" Laughing with her, he remarked, "One in particular caught my eye…Kneel Down Armstrong...it had this whole female space alien dominatrix thing going on. Probably not your speed."

"Sounds a little too lascivious for my taste," She politely informed him. "I prefer The Weather Channel."

"And why does The Weather Channel fascinate you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She winked at the curious man. "The weather is one of the few things beyond my control so, when I feel like being a little submissive..."

"Is it the weather or the weathermen that do it for you?" Stopping in the middle of the aisle, he announced, "Because I'd love to demonstrate my knowledge of high-pressure systems and tropical moisture for you one day."

When Heather saw him go from hearty laughter to puzzlement, she inquired, "Jim is something wrong?"

"Yeah…I see something highly suspicious and I need to investigate. Since I'm back in my jurisdiction, I can't let this go." Glancing over at her, he said, "I'm sorry, do you mind getting your luggage on your own? We drove separately so…"

"No, not at all." She smiled. "Someone has to keep the naughty boys in line when they're outside of my dominion. I'll call you."

"You're such a control freak. I'll call _you_!" He jokingly countered as he watched her saunter away. Once she was out of range, he slipped his hands in his pockets and returned his gaze to the Home Turf Sports Grill. As he stared at Sara sitting alone at a corner table, he thought…unless she's undercover, something's not right with this picture.

After taking a deep breath, he walked into the establishment and approached the table. "Is this seat taken?" He asked while pointing the stool next to her.

Stunned to see Brass standing before her, Sara gasped, "What are you doing here?"

Lowering his carry-on bag to the floor, Jim explained, "My flight just got in. I was on vacation the last four days, remember?" Smiling, he added, "Didn't you miss me?"

One close look and she knew he had sniffed the scent of her despair a mile away and was here to pry. "I don't really want to…"

"You know, I didn't get a snack on the plane and those nachos you have in front of you look like too much for one person. Wanna share? I'll pay for your next round." He pointed to the glass on the table. "What is that you're drinking anyway?"

She knew what he was thinking. "Don't worry…it's just Sprite on the rocks. And yes, I'll share my nachos." Pushing the plate in front of him, she sighed. "I'm done with them actually."

Taking a seat, he noticed one, maybe two divots in the overflowing plate of chips and cheese. "You barely made a dent in the pile, Sara."

"I thought I was hungry but…" Glancing at the flow of people coursing by, she fell silent. There was no point in trying to deceive Brass; aside from being a skillful decoder of people, he knew her all too well. Besides…deception, even with good intentions had already ruined her life once today and she had learned her lesson.

Reaching for a napkin, Jim decided to make his move. "Sara…everyone knows airport nachos taste like shit. You're not boozing and there's no ambiance here, so…care to tell me why you're hanging out at this airport bar _alone_ on a Sunday night"

Her eyes still on the passersby, she answered, "Why does anyone kill time in a bar at the airport? I'm waiting for a flight."

"Yeah…I figured that much when I saw your bag and your boarding pass. I think the key word in my question was _alone_." Watching her, he saw her body tense. "It's not like I suspect something's going on, Sara. You look like hell. I_ know_ something's going on."

Drained from hours of tears shed alone while deciding what to do, she whispered, "I can't talk about it." Her eyes focused on a happy couple sitting in the waiting area across from the bar.

Jim slipped a little closer. "Does he know where you're going? Does anyone?"

"No and he doesn't care." Still fixated, she watched the blissful pair on the bench snuggle and laugh together. "He was quite clear on the matter…he doesn't want to be near me and I gave him some very good reasons to feel that way. Coincidentally, he motivated me to stay as far away from him as possible so…here I am flying away. It's a win-win decision in a lose-lose situation."

"If he doesn't care, then tell me where you're going," He demanded, "Because I care. The thought of you heading off to be alone somewhere without anyone knowing where you are isn't right. I already have Ellie out there…god knows where doing god knows what. Don't make me wonder what's going on with you too."

"I appreciate the concern but…"

"If you don't tell me, I'll be forced to make a scene at the airport." Lightening his tone, he informed her, "We both know I've been around enough psychos to know how to imitate one. I'll make us look crazy then security will come, we'll both end up being hauled away and you'll miss your flight. Besides…what's the point in keeping it from me? You know if you don't tell me I'll just use my power in this town to find out anyway. I've done it before, right? Why do you think I checked up on you when you went to Colorado Springs?"

Returning her gaze to Jim, she softly replied, "Thanks for caring. It's nice to know I'm not completely alone in this world."

"I'll tell you the same thing I've told Ellie…" Pulling out his cell phone he smiled. "Call me anytime. She never takes me up on the offer. I hope you do."

Even though she was desperate to accept the offer, she needed to clarify one requirement. "If he asks you where I am, promise me you won't tell him. If he does ever care to know where I am…he needs to find me."

"I promise I won't tell him." Knowingly, he smiled at her. "So…where are you going, Sara? Or should I take a guess?"

**Greg's Apartment  
****7:45 p.m.**

Lying in bed next to Greg, Tawny watched him peacefully sleeping while thinking back to the intimacy they had shared this evening. It was the first time they slept together…just slept. And so it was, fully clothed and in his arms that she experienced a new level of ecstasy…tenderness.

Reaching out, she stroked his bruised cheekbone with her fingertips. Based on personal experience she knew the bruise would disappear in a few days. That's the funny thing about bruises she mused…they fade fast on the outside while the memory of how you acquired one lingers on. It had been five years since she looked in the mirror and saw a similar bruise on her cheek. She remembered it perfectly…some days she could still feel it.

That's the way it was supposed to be, bruises were supposed to be negative…the result of an accident which rendered pain…the outcome of a disagreement you clearly lost before you even had a chance to defend yourself. But today, she learned that bruises could be positive…proof positive that someone cared enough to not think of self-preservation, but of someone else.

Now that Greg knew her darkest secrets, she felt safer…assured that he would never hurt her now that he knew her painful past. On the contrary, she was certain he'd go out of his way to protect her no matter what. Certain because it made sense…when you care deeply about someone who has been damaged in the past, the last thing you would ever do is _choose_ to hurt them.

**America West Airlines  
****Flight 902  
****8:03 p.m.**

After watching the lights of The Strip fade from view, Sara closed her eyes and reclined in her window seat. The turmoil of the day's events finally catching up with her exhausted mind and body, she was grateful her row was empty and desperately hoped sleep would overtake her.

As she started to drift, the sound of a baby crying a few rows back disturbed her slumber and as the infant's mewling intensified, it disturbed her peace of mind. For the first time in the four months of the feasibility study, the answer was crystal clear…it's not even feasible for us to have a relationship, no less a child. Which made her wonder…what if I was already pregnant when this blow up happened today? Would he have stuck around for the sake of the baby, or would he do the same thing as his father and abandon both mother and child?

All this time I fought to learn the littlest things about him when I should have been focused on discovering the bigger secrets he harbored like a blind temper, a proclivity to protect himself at the expense of others and his predisposition to abandon people. Wait…who am I kidding, I knew the last two intimately. Over the years, how many times did he hurt my feelings to protect his? Dozens? Every time I made excuses for his behavior and after a brief retreat, forgave him and let him back into my life. In Tahoe he abandoned me at my lowest moment and I swore I wouldn't give him another chance but I did.

Staring out the window once more, Sara saw nothing but darkness. I am my mother, she admitted for the first time in her life. Grissom's behavior has been escalating all these years and along the way I swallowed my pride and accepted it. Why? Because I'm obsessed? Because I'm desperate? Because I know deep down he's as mentally messed up as me? Because I felt sorry for him and his dysfunctional personality? Because I love him and love isn't logical?

A business man harshly scolding the frustrated mother of the shrieking baby caught Sara's ear and without hesitation she jumped up and yelled, "Hey, how about cutting her some slack, you selfish jerk! Do you think she's intentionally making the baby cry just to piss you off? I bet you do because guys like you always think the world revolves around their needs. Well guess what, your whining is far more annoying than the baby's cry, so do us all a favor and shut the hell up." The words were out there before she knew it and when she heard clapping from passengers around her, she knew her delivery must have been effective. If Greg were here she knew he'd proclaim it another 'Sara Sidle Smackdown'.

The flight attendant swooped over. "Miss, can I get you a drink? Cocktail on the house?" The last thing she wanted was an edgy female on her flight.

"No thank you." Sara retreated to her window seat thinking, I'm not that much like my mother. I'm not drinking this tension away. I refuse. Admittedly that's why I went to the airport bar but when I got there, I _chose _a Sprite. Life is all about choices. Today I made some bad ones then he made worse ones and eventually we made a mutual one.

Were they choices? Or were we so caught up in the juxtaposition of traumas past and present that we reacted instinctively instead of logically? Why _did _I act the way I did? Why?

Why did I lie and try to distract Gil to get his father out of there without confrontation when I _knew_ I shouldn't be deceptive? Why would I do that? I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't mean to embarrass him in front of the man he despises. What would make me do such a thing?

Like carbon under pressure producing a sparkling diamond, when she applied enough force to her long-term memory, an answer twinkled through the darkness.

It wasn't a choice, it was instinct. A conditioned behavioral response. I see it now. I see it…

"_Mommy!" Sara rushed into the house panting and clutching her 4th grade math book. "I saw Daddy's car coming! You know he doesn't like you talking to other people. Tell the man to go away! Tell him to go away now!"_

_She watched as her mother and the guest leapt up from the couch and her mother rushed to get the man down the hall and out the back door. _

"_Hurry!" Sara shouted as she dropped her book and lunged for the wine glasses sitting on the coffee table. _

_The sound of the front door opening caused her to hurriedly tuck the glasses behind her back and freeze. _

"_Hey there Baby Girl," Her father sweetly greeted. "How was school today?" _

"_Good." Her heart pounded in her chest as she clenched the glasses tighter._

"_Just good?" He laughed. "My little genius girl always has something more to say than good." Glancing around the room, he asked, "Where's your mother?" _

"_I think she's doing the laundry." _

"_Whatcha hiding behind your back?" _

"_Um…it's a picture… I'm making it for you." She squeaked as she felt one of the glasses sliding through her sweaty palm and fought to hold onto it. _

"_I look forward to seeing it when it's done." Turning to head for the kitchen, he heard the sound of glass shattering over the tile floor. "What the hell?" _

_Shaking, she saw her father heading towards her and a second later he was grabbing the remaining glass from her trembling hand. His expression had flipped from happiness to rage. _

"_She told you to hide these didn't she?" _

"_No." _

"_Don't lie to me, Sara!" _

"_I'm not!" She yelled as her mother re-entered the room. "I was playing with them! I was pretending to have a party! They're mine! Please don't fight! Daddy, please don't…" _

_In horror she watched the glass sail through the air, just miss her mother's head and crash against the wall. As she retreated to her usual hiding spot in the corner of the room, she chastised herself…if only I hid them in the cushions he wouldn't have found them. This is my fault. _

It was my fault. I am my mother. I let an unwelcome guest into the house. I should have stuck to my convictions and sent Ron packing. I knew it was a mistake. But I wanted to know more about his heart condition and then when he started talking, I wanted to know everything he knew about Gil because there's so much I don't know…so much he won't share. I have to play games and win opportunities to get information from him. Now it's painfully obvious how little I know him. Her answer to Ron's question echoed in her mind. _Gil doesn't have a temper. That's one of the reasons I was drawn to him. He's very stable_. Yeah, I thought he was…he really was until today…he gave me everything I needed…

"_I want this to be our house, Sara. Our home." Squeezing her hand tighter, Grissom said, "I love you. I want you in my life forever. What do you think?" _

"_Love and stability…the two things I always wanted and thought I would never get. Now I have both." Tears of happiness flowed down her cheeks. "Thank you. Yes!" _

The happy memory reactivated her heartache as she realized…love and stability, the two things I always wanted, were brutally retracted today. Those two things were my life…and he mercilessly took them away in less than an hour.

Anxious to block the noises on the airplane and zone further into despair, Sara retrieved her iPod and donned her ear buds. Flipping through her collection she played the first melancholy song she found.

**Greg's Apartment**

With Greg gone for the night, Tawny busied herself tidying up the place while listening to the bittersweet song on the stereo.

A smile perked on her face as she organized Greg's desk. The old life was behind her and although it was a one bedroom apartment, not a castle and he was a CSI not a prince, the fairy tale she was living was already better than anything she'd ever read. It was enough to make her believe in the remote possibility of _happily ever after_…

**Flight 902**

Through glassy eyes, Sara stared at the platinum band on her left ring finger.

Slowly the fingers of her right hand circled around the ring as she recalled the words…_Sara, do you agree to receive Gil as your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and respect him, to honor and cherish him, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live? _

"I tried, I really tried," She whispered as the song faded. _Sara, I give this ring to you as a token and promise of our constant faith and abiding love. _"This wasn't supposed to happen…it was supposed to be forever."

**Crime Lab  
****Break Room  
****9:50 p.m. **

"This is taking forever!" Catherine snipped as she fiddled with the coffeemaker. "Something's not right with this thing. Where the hell is Sanders? He should be here by now!"

From the couch, Sofia sighed, "Didn't see any pre-shift action tonight, huh?"

"Are you looking in the mirror again, Blondie?"

"Good evening, Divas," Greg greeted while enjoying the stunned expressions on their faces. "What?"

Sofia crossed the room for a closer look. "Well _you_ definitely saw some pre-shift action."

Catherine joined them. "I was so distracted by that hideous shirt you're wearing I barely noticed your battered face." Reaching out, she held him by the chin. "Hey… your messed up face matches your messed up hair!"

"Ha!" He excitedly replied, "That's what I expected Sara to say when she found out, but she let it slide. Thanks for not disappointing me."

"That really is a hideous shirt, Greg" Catherine snipped. "Somewhere there's a boy holding an empty Crayola box wondering, where did all my crayons go?"

Warrick breezed into the room. "Java ready yet?"

"The pot is going haywire," She informed him. "Only Greg speaks its language."

At the mention of Greg's name, Warrick looked at him for the first time. "What the hell happened to your face?"

Shyly, he admitted, "I…uh…got into a little altercation earlier today."

Sofia snarked, "Yeah…I heard your girlfriend had big boobs. Maybe you should stay on top so you don't get pummeled."

Warrick burst out laughing, which he immediately saw wasn't appreciated by his significant other/Sofia despiser. "Sorry, but that visual got me."

Grissom lurked in the doorway while gathering the strength to infiltrate the jovial group.

"The boss is here!" Greg shouted when he caught a glimpse of him. "Gris, can you believe these guys think there's something wrong with my face?"

"Uh…we got a busy night," Grissom replied without stepping foot in the room. "Warrick and Catherine, I'm sending you out on a 407 in Boulder City." Extending a piece of paper to Warrick, he added, "Take separate vehicles in case I need to send one of you elsewhere."

"Sure thing, Boss," Warrick took the paper and motioned for Catherine to join him. "I'll buy you a Starbucks on the way out of town."

"I guess I'm getting' lucky twice tonight," She replied while glaring at Sofia. "See ya!"

Grissom averted his eyes as Catherine walked by and when she disappeared down the hall with Warrick, he finished his assignments. "I need the two of you to drive together and meet me at this address." He gave the slip of paper to Sofia. "We've got to move right now. We're looking at a mess…two DBs and a 426 under the same roof. Sofia, at some point you'll be leaving the scene with the 426 vic to process her at the hospital, make sure you have a sexual assault evidence kit. I'll see you both there ASAP." On a dime he left the doorway.

"Hey, Gris…" Greg called out, "Why can't I ride with you instead of Sofia?"

Returning to the doorway, Grissom lashed out. "I just told you a woman was raped and two people are dead and you're dwelling on how you're getting your ass to the scene?"

"Sorry, I…" He noted the extreme expression on his boss's face and backpedaled. "I um…I just had something I wanted to discuss with you and I thought we could…but never mind. It's not important right now."

"Then stop wasting my time!" Grissom barked as he walked away.

"Whoa…there's a first. I've never seen Daddy pissed off at his favorite little boy." Sofia glanced at her team mate as they walked down the hall. "Either you screwed up, or wifey didn't give him any pre-shift action and you're his punching bag."

"Damn…I haven't seen him that unjustifiably cranky since he hooked up with Sara." Shaking off the negativity, Greg said, "I guess now that he's had time to think about the fight he's ticked at me."

"With the mood he's in…you better not screw up at the scene."

"Thanks for planting that in my head," Greg sighed as they stepped outside. "Who's driving?"

**Hertz Rental Car  
****9:55 p.m.**

After loading her baggage in the grey Ford Escape she rented, Sara slid into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Pulling out of the lot she wondered…what the hell am I doing here? Glancing over at the map the desk clerk had given her, she decided to forego a formal plan and just drive.

As she turned the steering wheel, she caught a glimpse of her wedding band that she couldn't slip off her finger earlier. _I give this ring to you as a token and promise… _

**Corner of Eastern and Hacienda  
****Las Vegas, NV  
****10:08 p.m. **

_... of our constant faith and abiding love. _With his eyes still on his wedding band instead of the stop light, Grissom didn't realize it had turned green until the sharp honk of a horn wrenched him out of his daze.

Taking his foot off the brake, he rolled through the intersection while continuing his analysis. If I take off the ring then everyone will know something is up. They'll figure it out. That's why I had to send Catherine and Warrick away tonight. I couldn't keep up the farce in front of them, they know me too well. Greg I can control. Sofia doesn't know me. I can pull it off. They won't see it. They won't figure out I'm dying inside. Dying because my wife did the one thing I never believed she could do…betray me.

As he gripped the steering wheel tighter, the wedding band pressed deeper into his flesh. This ring is suffocating me. It's killing me to wear it. I trusted her with my heart and now all I have is a hole in my chest. She took it all away. He heard an echo from his past…

_She offers us a new life with her, but we have a big decision to make, right? Because we have to risk everything we worked for in order to have her. I couldn't do it…_

Why the hell did I change my mind? I knew this would be the outcome. She warned me this would happen. She warned me…

"_When you let someone inside your heart they own you," Jillian Grissom signed after handing her nine year old son a tissue. The sudden news of his father's re-marriage and planned move out of the country devastated her little boy and she was desperate to mend his shattered heart. "The sooner you push your father out of your heart the quicker the pain will go away. Push him out! He doesn't deserve to have a spot in your heart after what he did to you. People can't hurt you if you don't let them inside. So let this be a lesson. Never wear your heart on your sleeve. Guard your heart…guard it at all costs. Guard it and you'll always be safe." _

I never should have let Sara in. Why did I think it was worth the risk? I wanted it so badly I let my guard down.

_You risked it all and she showed you a wonderful life, didn't she? But then she took it away…_

"And now I'm lost," He whispered as he parked his Tahoe at the crime scene and stepped outside. Fifty yards behind he saw Sofia pulling up with Greg.

"D_on't let them see you upset, Son. Don't let them see your pain. You keep it inside. Keep it all inside. Look how people treat me when they realize I'm deaf…they see me as weak and when someone believes you're weak they'll wait for an opportunity to exploit you. Be strong on the outside no matter how much you're suffering on the inside." _

The first signs of a headache were surfacing as Grissom glanced at the bright lights of the police cars lining the street. With his kit in hand, he quelled the dull ache with steady breathing as he waited for Greg and Sofia to join him.

Vartann hurried down the walk to meet the team. "You guys are going to need your waders for the blood bath in the girl's bedroom."

"What's the story?" Sofia asked. And when Grissom shot her a look she stared him down. "Sorry, Alpha Male, my curiosity got the best of me."

Grissom ignored her comment and stuck to business. "Give us the details, Vartann."

"It ain't pretty." Rubbing his forehead, he said, "Seventeen year old girl, Tasha Pavlik had her boyfriend over, Mark Toscana, also seventeen. They were at the kitchen table working on a project for some summer science course at UNLV. Along comes Trevor Johnson...described by neighbors as a high school misfit…a real loner but a gentle kid who wouldn't hurt a flea…how many times have we heard that one?"

"If it's not the butler, it's always the loner misfit," Sofia remarked as she tossed her hair off her shoulders.

Vartann nodded at his favorite blond CSI. "Apparently Trevor had a thing for Tasha but couldn't get it through his thick skull that she wasn't interested. He shows up tonight to nip at her heels and finds the object of his obsession with vic number one, Mark Toscana. Trevor, vic number two, snaps. He grabs a butcher knife and takes out Mark in the kitchen right in front of the girl. Having eliminated the competition, he decides Tasha is now his girlfriend and takes her to the bedroom. The mother, Lana Pavlik, comes home from the store and hears her daughter screaming. She rushes in and sees Trevor assaulting her little girl. She runs to the kitchen to get a knife and finds Mark bleeding out on the floor. She picks up the butcher knife Trevor had dropped and…let's just say you'll be piecing Trevor together."

Just hearing the story made Greg wince. "Damn, that's messed up."

"Yeah." Vartann led the way. "I'll take you in the back door so you can have a look. The girl and her mom are in the living room talking to a female officer. Ask them whatever you need to before they leave for the hospital to have Tasha processed."

When they entered the kitchen, their eyes focused on the red pool dominating the white tile floor.

"This is the warm-up," Vartann warned. "Trevor is back here." He led them out of the kitchen and down the hall, stopping just outside the bedroom. "I'll be outside. Let me know if you need anything."

The trio stepped into the room and faced the carnage.

"Rage killing," Sofia observed. "Not that I blame the mother." Lowering her kit, she readied her camera.

In silence Grissom assessed the gruesome scene while Greg felt the walls of the room closing in on him. "You guys I…" It was the worst he had witnessed by a long shot. Placing his kit on the floor, he steadied himself on the doorway.

"Greg!" Grissom snapped. "What the hell are you doing? Glove up before you touch anything. I should never have to tell you that. Never!"

"You're right…my mistake." The horrific sight and overpowering smells continued to overwhelm him as Greg bent down to open his kit and grab a pair of gloves.

"Let Greg take the photos," Grissom instructed Sofia.

Zooming in on the bloody covered knife, Sofia scoffed, "He can't even look at the body."

"Give Greg the camera," He insisted.

"Fine." She handed it over. "Start snapping."

"Body shots first," Grissom told him as he yanked on a pair of gloves. "Sofia, you bag the weapon since you already documented it. Greg…get a little closer. Evisceration is never pretty, but if you want to do this job you'll learn to deal with it. "

When last drop of blood drained from his face, he whimpered, "Grissom…" With a shaky hand, Greg held out the camera. "I've got to…"

"Not in the house!" Grissom shouted as Greg ran from the room covering his mouth.

"Nice going," Sofia clapped. "Feel better?"

"He has to toughen up if he's going to make it in this world." Grissom took over snapping the photos. "I'm doing my job."

"Tough love," Sofia remarked as she knelt down to label an evidence bag.

"Look around..." He lowered the camera. "…is there any other kind? Check out the blood spatter on the girl's teddy bear collection. You want to go tell her that love is sweet?"

"I'm going to check on Greg."

Raising the camera, he snipped, "Tell him not to come back in here until he can hold it together." _Be strong on the outside no matter how much you're suffering on the inside. _"And he better not be puking in front of the cops." Once he was alone, He lowered the camera and massaged his left temple. "Hold it together."

**Dave's Diner  
****10:23 p.m. **

Sara returned the bright smile of the elderly woman working the take out counter. "Thank you," She politely said as she received her change.

"You here on vacation?"

"Yes," She lied through a sunny smile. Actually I'm running away. I know I look a little old to be doing that, but I've always been a late bloomer.

"Been here before?"

"Yes." But please don't ask me about it. I never imagined I'd come back here. I don't even know why I came back here. But I had no where else to go and this place popped into my head. What does that mean?

"You're not much of a talker," The woman announced as she handed over the chocolate milkshake.

"No. Have a good night." Someone should and it's definitely not going to be me. I wonder if he's having a good night?

**The Pavlik Home Crime Scene  
****10:24 p.m. **

Grissom watched as the terrified girl clung to her mother. She was so traumatized she didn't even realize her mother was still drenched in Trevor Johnson's blood. "Did Trevor display any signs of abusive behavior prior to tonight?"

Lana Pavlik snapped, "I don't know how many times I warned that psycho to stay away from my little girl. Does abusive behavior have to mean he got physical with her?"

"No. Abusive behavior can be psychological. For instance, did he intimidate her?" Out of nowhere, his father's voice rang out in his mind. _Your wife is getting very upset. Look at her, will you? Please stop._

"Trevor was great at intimidation," Lana angrily replied. "He wouldn't stop hounding her."

Grissom's mind skipped back to the words he spat earlier today. _You still aren't getting it, Sara! Look at me! What is it going to take to make you get it! _"Um…I'm sorry. You were saying?" He struggled to deny the image of Sara backing away from him in fear.

"I said the boy was always talking to her, making her feel like she was being cruel to him when she wasn't. Tasha was too nice to him. She wanted to protect his feelings…keep him from getting hurt. She kept telling him that she wasn't interested in being anything more than his friend. The bastard wouldn't leave her alone! He was a sick pup! Loved scaring her!"

_You're scaring me! _Sara's tearful pleas filled his head as his heart thumped in his chest. _Stop! I can't handle this! Please don't do this! _"Um…"

"Trevor never listened. Tonight I took care of the problem!" Seething with contempt, Lana held her daughter tighter. "My ex never listened to me either. Why don't they ever listen?" Her blood boiling, she screamed, "You're a man…you tell me. Why? Why wouldn't he listen to her! Why did he think it was okay to ignore her! Why did he think he had the right to terrorize her! She begged him to stop, god damn it! And he didn't listen!"

Officer Diaz stepped closer. "Ma'am…I know you're under a lot of duress…"

Grissom fell back in the chair as the voice of the terrified woman faded. Suddenly he was no longer in the Pavlik living room, he was in his own…in his favorite chair. And there was Sara. Just like earlier today, her mouth was moving but her words had no sound. Why was she mute? He wondered. Why can't I hear her? Are my ears are going again? Or maybe…maybe I wasn't listening. _Mrs. Pavlik's scream filtered through…Answer me! Why didn't he listen to her! Why did he think he had the right to terrorize her! _"Sara?" Grissom whispered.

"Mr. Grissom?" Officer Diaz asked. "Are you okay?"

"What did I do?" He gasped as the volume slowly rose and when Sara's voice finally boomed, he gripped the arms of the chair while the flood of her terror-fueled declarations washed over him.

"_Stop! I can't handle this!"_

"_Please don't do this!"_

"_If you would just listen to me!"_

"_I was trying to protect you!"_

"_I never meant for you to get hurt!"_

"_Please calm down!"_

"_I can't stand seeing you like this!"_

"_Stop it!"_

"_You're scaring me!"_

"_Please don't do this!"_

"_No!" _

_Stay the hell away from me!_

"Mr. Grissom?" The officer shook him. "Mr. Grissom…are you through here?"

"I…Yes!" Jumping out of the chair, he backed away. "Ms. Curtis will accompany you to the hospital." His eyes locked on the terrified girl…the fear in her eyes…the pain of her expression…the tremor of her body. _Why did he think he had the right to terrorize her! She begged him to stop god damn it! _When he bumped into an end table, Grissom was jolted out of his downward spiral.

Officer Diaz eyed the CSI suspiciously, wondering if he had been tipping a bottle before arriving. "Are you sure you're fit to be on the scene tonight?"

"I'm fine." He wiped the sweat from his brow. He could barely hear his words over his pounding heart. "I'm fine. It's just hot in here and…I…have a headache and I haven't had any water." The walls were closing in around him and he gulped for air. "I'll send Sofia," He informed the cop as he continued his retreat.

_You risked it all and she showed you a wonderful life, didn't she?_

_But then she took it away…_

…_and you were lost._

"Oh my god." His hands covered his mouth as another memory rushed him.

"_I want this to be our house, Sara. Our home. I love you. I want you in my life forever. What do you think?" _

"_Love and stability…the two things I always wanted and thought I would never get." She smiled. "Now I have both." _

"What did I do?" When he reached the kitchen he gulped for air. She _betrayed _me so I wanted her to pay.

_You risked it all and she showed you a wonderful life, didn't she?_

_But then she took it away…_

…_and you were lost._

But how could I go so far? Throwing open the back door, he raced to the corner of the empty yardLove and stability were what she lived for…they're all she had.I did it because I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me. So I went for the kill…and I executed it swiftly and without remorse.

_But then she took it away…_

…_and you were lost._

_So you took her life._

Falling to his knees, he dropped his throbbing head in his hands. "She's still breathing but I took her life."

Inside the house, Sofia snapped photos of the blood spattered curtains. "Hey, Greg. You need to see this."

Steadying himself for what was probably another gut wrenching sight, he carefully crossed the blood soaked floor. "What?"

"Look out the window." With her gloved hand, she held back the curtain so he could see Grissom puking his guts up in the back yard. "There comes a day in every boy's life when he suddenly realizes that his daddy is only human. Take a good look, Greg. He's just an ordinary man. No different than you. He's just better at the art of deception. Keep wearing your heart on your sleeve, Sanders." She patted him on the back. "It's healthier. If only someone had told that to Trevor he might have released enough steam to not explode one day."

Narrowing his gaze, Greg watched the shocking loss of control. "I should check on him."

"Don't forget to mention he's a hypocrite." Sofia smiled as she snapped another photo. "It's about time Mr. Holier than Thou got a wake up call."

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

"**Second Chances - Part 6"**

**The Pavlik Home Crime Scene  
****10:55 p.m. **

Greg hustled through the backyard with Grissom's prescription bottle. "It was right where you said it was in your kit."

From his position sitting against the block fence, Grissom slowly lifted his head. "Thanks."

Popping the top he asked, "How many?"

"Two."

While he placed the pills in Grissom's open palm, Greg commented, "My mom suffers from migraines." He twisted open the cap on the water bottle and held it out. "When I was a kid, she used to tease me and say it was from listening to me practice piano. I hated playing so it seemed logical that if I quit so we could both stop suffering. Of course, she still got migraines after I stopped playing so really only I got anything out of the deal. Anyway she…"

Still reeling from the recollection of his abhorrent behavior, Grissom clutched his pounding head and fell deeper into despair._ Physical abuse…mental abuse…it's all abusive! Two men…different weapons…same goal! And I don't think either one of those bastards is worthy of my spit no less a god damn glass of my water in my home! _Looking back, the hypocrisy was crystal clear. While he was lecturing her on the despicable qualities of abusive men, he was psychologically traumatizing her. As upset as he was over her betrayal, he knew it didn't justify his appalling behavior. The questions flowed…why did it happen? Can I be trusted not to do it again? Could she ever trust me? She lied to me…can I ever trust her? How can I even look at her now that I realize how viciously I treated her? How can she ever look at me the same?

"I should stop talking now," Greg remarked. "Only furthers the pain, I'm sure. Warrick is on his way to assist since Sofia had to go to the hospital with the vic. This scene is way more than we envisioned so we can definitely use the help. While you wait for your medication to kick in I'll keep processing the bedroom…and before you say it…I promise not to screw it up. Oh and just so you know…it's turning into a real nightmare out front so you probably want to stay away until you're feeling better. Mark Toscana's parents are there and they just called an ambulance for his mom because she collapsed…who can blame her. Vartann said Trevor's parents are out of town so they won't be showing up which is good because Mark's dad looks angry enough to kill." Walking away he said, "Call me if you need anything."

"Greg…"

"Yeah?" He turned around.

Sincerity flooding his voice, Grissom said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I should have handled things differently."

Nodding, he replied, "It's cool. I caused enough trouble earlier today. I deserved it."

"No." He fought through the pain. "That's not the reason I did it and you didn't deserve it. It's also not the first time I've jumped down your throat instead of being supportive. Most recently, I did the same thing at the gun range, remember?"

He smiled. "You mean when you and Sara were arguing over how to raise me? Yeah…reminded me of my parents fighting over me quitting the swim team…my dad was really tweaked and my mom got in his face telling him not to push me so hard. I bet if Sara were here tonight she would have gotten in your face about it."

"Yeah…she definitely would have." Swallowing hard, he said, "You had every right to march out here and call me a hypocrite, but instead you asked if I needed help. Thank you."

"Up until last week I was a pretty big hypocrite myself so…if I called you one I'd be a hypocrite again and I'm trying to be a different kind of guy. I'm evolving…like a caterpillar into a butterfly." He chuckled. "I thought you might dig that analogy."

"I do." Grissom stared at him thinking…you have no idea how much I want to believe that's possible right now.

Stepping closer Greg said, "Besides…it's like you told me when you were at my apartment discussing Emerson's take on self-sacrifice. Remember…right before Tawny went hysterical and locked herself in the bathroom? You said, 'give a piece of yourself then reap the rewards of generosity and then give some back again'. Well…you've been giving plenty so, it's my turn."

"You really do absorb everything."

"No, not everything…only the stuff worth soaking up." Suddenly his tone sobered. "Speaking of soaking…I better get back to processing the blood bath. David was just arriving when I was getting your pills."

"I'll go with you." He took a deep breath and struggled to get to his feet.

"Here…" Greg walked over and held out his hand. "Let me help you up in case you're dizzy. My mom…she would lose her balance sometimes."

After a brief hesitation, he accepted the offer. "Thanks," He said as he wavered.

"Are you okay?"

**Shoreline Cabins  
****11:45 p.m.**

"I swear…I'm okay," Sara informed Brass as she took a seat on the couch holding the cabin's cordless phone. "I rented a place and I'm safely locked inside. Lucky for me the owner let me check in so late. She said she didn't mind because she's a night owl. Oh…and she lives in the cabin down the road so don't worry, I'm not in the middle of the woods alone." The accidental metaphor wasn't lost on her. Actually I am lost and alone in the middle of the woods…but I left a trail of bread crumbs just in case.

"What's the temperature there? I'll tell ya…this 100 degree shit was a shock after Vancouver's summer temperature."

"Then why do you want to torture yourself by asking?" A near smile showed on her face. "It's fifty-four degrees."

"Doh!"

"I'd make a fire in the fireplace if it wouldn't make me fall into a deeper depression." The thought of snuggling up to a cozy fire _alone_ just didn't seem appealing. "I'm really tired so I'm going to get some sleep."

"Okay. Don't worry, I'll talk to Nicky about your shift. Hey…take care of yourself, Sara."

"Don't worry…I've had a lifetime of practice doing just that." A new wave of sadness washed over her and she whispered, "Good night, Jim," before clicking off the phone.

Glancing toward the door she saw her baggage. "Decades later and I'm still suddenly packing up and moving to a new home."

"_Sara…" Foster mom Mrs. Jacobs took her hand. "We knew this day would come because I'm only a temporary provider. Peg Hewitt, your caseworker called a little while ago. They've found a more permanent situation for you." She smiled. "There are other children there and a good school just down the street from the house." _

"_Please…can't I stay here?" Sara pleaded. "I like it here, it's quiet."_

"_I'm sorry dear." Peg stood up. "Come now…I'll help you pack your things. When we're through, I'll take you out for chocolate milkshake." _

Recalling her stop at Dan's Diner, she groaned, "And I'm still drinking chocolate milkshakes to celebrate displacement. How screwed up is that?" Falling silent, she pondered, am I really no more than the sum of my messed up childhood trauma? Is that all he is?" Her fingers coiled through her hair. And I thought I made a lot of progress in therapy.

Exhausted, she stretched out on the couch, knowing the king size lodge-pole bed would be too depressing to sleep in alone. From the back of the leather couch she grabbed a blanket. Sighing, she thought, I'm too tired to even care what kind of germs might be on this thing.

She pulled the blanket tighter and closed her eyes. Like she had done so many times in her life she shifted uncomfortably while longing for the familiarity of her own bed and the two things she always craved…love and security. Things she was no longer certain she'd ever feel again.

In the course of her tossing and turning, she brought her right hand to her forehead and was jolted by the feel of her diamond ring against her skin.

Opening her eyes, she stared at the stones. Diamonds…the hardest substance known…they're resistant to acid and need to be heated to 1470 degrees before turning to carbon dioxide. They're resilient even under duress. The word diamond comes from the Greek word adamas meaning, unconquerable. I looked that up after finding out diamond was diamante in Italian. Diamante…

"_Sara, if you were a bigger opera fan, you might know what the Italian word for diamond is…" _

Staring at the ring her eyes pooled.

"_Sara, I've told you so many things over these past seven months but there's one affirmation I've yet to verbalize although you know I've felt it for a while. Something very hard for me, something I've never said before in my life." As he slipped the ring on her finger he said, "I trust you. I trust in your love." _

"I took away the one thing that meant everything to him..." A fresh batch of tears tumbled from her eyes. "…his ability to trust me. Like I waited a lifetime to find love and security, he waited a lifetime to find someone he could trust." As the diamonds blurred she thought…people, unlike diamonds, are easy to destroy. We destroyed each other in a matter of minutes. How's that for symmetry?

Lifting her left hand, she looked at the thick platinum band encircling her ring finger then let her eyes drift back to the diamond ring on her right. "We exchanged _two_ sets of vows. We made _two_ sets of promises." Sniffling she said, "We only betrayed each other _once_. Does that mean we still have a second chance?

**August 8, 2005 (Day 108)  
****Crime Lab  
****Grissom's Office  
****6:44 a.m. **

After returning from the field, Grissom holed up in his office with stacks of paperwork to pass the time until Sara arrived for her shift. He didn't expect she would speak with him, nor did he think he should try, but he wanted to see her…to know she was safe.

Tahoe was the only time she was ever completely out of his reach and he remembered the unnerving feeling like it was yesterday. It was hell and he could still hear the echo of the message that he heard a hundred times when he frantically tried to reach her…_I'm sorry but the subscriber you're trying to reach is unavailable._

Checking his watch he knew it wouldn't be much longer and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, Gris!" Nick bounded into the office. "I just got off the phone with Brass and I gotta say…your wife has a lot of nerve," He said half joking. "She knew Trey had the week off. Hell of a time for her to decide to take off for a forensics conference."

Removing his glasses, Grissom stammered, "What…I'm sorry…say that again?"

Nick stuffed his hands on his hips. "Brass called and told me he approved Sara's last minute request to attend some forensic psychology seminar. She'll be gone the whole week and I need her here. She knew how behind we were. I'd be bitchin' at her, but Brass wouldn't give me the number where she was staying and told me to leave her alone, that she's earned the time away."

Brass spoke with Sara? Grissom questioned the significance of the detail. What had she told him? Did she make up the seminar story? How would she pull that off? She'd have to do paperwork, submit receipts and do a post-conference report. Was she really going to the conference? Has she already left?

"Gris?" Nick stared at the lost man sitting behind the desk. "Where'd you go just now?"

"I uh…" Jumping up from his desk, he grabbed his keys. "I just remembered something I have to do. On behalf of Sara I apologize for the inconvenience to your shift. Greg wants to max out his overtime so maybe you could pull him." Frantic to find out the truth, he hurried out the door.

Nick watched as Grissom hustled down the hall. "Huh…it almost seemed like he was surprised about Sara's plans too. Or maybe last night's case still has him on edge. Sanders seemed a little freaked when I saw him leaving as I was coming in."

**Greg's Apartment  
****6:50 a.m. **

Drained from the emotionally devastating case, Greg trudged into his apartment and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter.

Figuring Tawny was still sleeping, he quietly opened the fridge and grabbed a Heineken. He was pleased to see there were several more at his disposal should he desire them…which he knew he would.

After popping off the top, he took a hearty swig and when he lowered the bottle, he slid down the wall to rest his tired body. Staring at the kitchen floor, his mind flipped back to the Pavlik kitchen and the thick layer of congealed blood contrasted against the white tile. The blood of a seventeen year old boy who had woken up that morning thinking he had his whole life ahead of him.

Downing another hefty portion of the bottle's contents, Greg fought to keep the images of the bedroom carnage out of his mind. It was a losing battle. The vision of the minced body parts overcame him and once again he felt a twinge of nausea.

"Hey there…"

Tawny's sleepy voice called out in the darkness of the room and he lifted his eyes toward the pleasant sound.

"I thought I heard you come in." Tucking her sleep-mussed hair behind her ear, she smiled. "You look like you had a rough night. Is that why you're home a little early?"

"Yeah…worst scene I've had so far." He held up his drained bottle. "I'm going for a little liquid memory loss as rapidly as possible."

Bending over, she took the empty and placed it on the counter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"You don't need to hear the details." Running his fingers through his hair he said, "After all…I'm trying to forget them."

Opening a new bottle for him, Tawny smiled, "I was thinking about you last night."

"Thank you," He softly replied as he wrapped his hand around the green bottle. "For thinking about me…not for the beer…although I'm grateful for that too." He tipped the bottle and drank until he was forced to stop for air.

Kneeling down in front of him, she said, "You know…despite my hormonal outbursts lately, I'm pretty tough. I wouldn't have survived all these years dancing in Vegas if I was a wuss. So if you need to talk this out, I can handle it."

"I appreciate the offer but…" Shaking his head he continued depleting the bottle in his grip.

"Did you know that pole dancing builds really strong shoulders?" Extending her hand, she urged him, "So if you're looking for a place to lean, maybe you want to give me a try instead of that wall."

Staring at her hand, he considered the offer and the feelings attached to accepting it.

"You've done so much for me, Greg…" She wiggled the fingers on her outstretched hand. "…let me give something back."

Slowly he slipped his hands in hers. "Thanks."

As she pulled him to his feet, Tawny once more fought the urge to proclaim the depth of her feelings for him and opted for a one word reply. "Anytime."

Dropping his arms around her, he buried his face in the nape of her neck and on a jagged breath he told her, "It was a really rough night."

She replied by strengthening her embrace.

In the security of her arms, he opened up. "Sometimes…sometimes I think I can't handle the job…seeing this stuff that no one should have to see…the nightmares afterwards. Tonight, I couldn't hold it together…I touched a door before I gloved up…I puked at the scene…I started shaking when I watched the parents of the vic find out their seventeen year old son was murdered…I was a wreck." He stroked her hair as he spoke in a voice raw with emotion. "On top of everything, Grissom picked today to lose it for the first time and I had to end up helping the person I usually have helping me. To overcompensate, I spent the rest of the night hiding my feelings and pretending what I was dealing with didn't bother me."

"No wonder you're shook up."

"I look at Grissom and think, is that what I'll become if I keep doing this job? Don't get me wrong, there are so many things about him I admire but…I don't want to be him." Clinging to her, he admitted, "I'm scared…I don't want to see so much that it's easier to shut down emotionally than deal with what I'm feeling. I don't want the job to take over my life…my sanity."

"I know what you mean," She whispered. "But it doesn't have to be that way. This sounds ridiculous but…it's kind of like stripping. When you go to work you have to check your emotions at the door and over the years, you get so used to it you don't even have to try because it's automatic. No matter what you see or hear on the job, it doesn't bother you because you're detached. It's the only way I could deal. But the key is…when you leave work, you have to check back in with your emotions or you're right…you'll go numb. I think that's why I go a little overboard on showing affection towards other people."

"So you think it's possible that over time I can toughen up on the job but not lose my vitality outside of work?" Pulling back, he looked for confidence in her eyes. "Because I don't want to come home to my kid and be so depressed I can't appreciate his smile."

She grinned as caressed his bruised cheek. "So…we're having a boy?"

"Sorry…that's how I've been picturing it."

"You've been picturing it?"

After clearing the emotion from his throat, he replied, "A few times, yeah."

"Does he have your hair or mine?" When she elicited a laugh from him with the question, she burst into one of her own.

"Yours." He remarked as he laced his fingers through her tussled mane. "This is nice…coming home to someone after a rough day."

"Remember what you told me when I said I wasn't used to anyone caring about me? Well I have the same answer for you about coming home to someone after a rough day." Wildly she grinned. "Get used to it!

The last of his melancholy was quickly defeated by Tawny's bright smile and enthusiasm. "Get used to it, huh?"

"Yeah." Sharing Eskimo kisses, their affection grew and she lovingly blurted, "Because now that I'm here with you, Greg…I don't ever want to leave."

When their eyes riveted on one another, he eagerly replied, "Good…" His hands locked behind her back. "…because I don't want you to go."

Feeling his heart hammering against hers she gasped, "Greg, I want…"

"What?" He whispered while grazing his lips over hers and reveling in the desire flourishing between them. "What do you want?"

Swooning from his near-kiss, she murmured, "I really want to…" She held back for fear he didn't feel the same.

With every breath, his feelings for her intensified. "Me too."

A second later they acknowledged their undeniable chemistry with a series of urgent kisses while gravitating to the bedroom door.

**The Grissoms' **

**7:18 a.m. **

Rushing through the front door, Grissom frantically called out, "Sara!" Clutching his keys he stood at the cross-section of the hallway. "I know you asked me to stay away and I _promise_ to leave but I want to make sure you're safe. I know I made you feel very unsafe yesterday and I'm so sorry…it's the last thing I ever thought I would do. I didn't realize what I was doing…not that I'm excusing my behavior. You really threw me…you hurt me and I was so blindsided by everything. I don't…I… Nick said you weren't coming to work all week and I…could you just answer and let me know you're safe and then maybe we could…if you want to …I don't know where to begin but I know I don't want this to end.. I don't want us to end, Sara. Please…just say something." Holding his aching head, he waited for a reply.

When he didn't get an answer, he hurried down the hall to the bedroom. "Sara?" Slowly he walked through the open door and scanned the room. As his pulse quickened, his eyes widened. _"_She…"

Stepping into the room he saw open drawers and on the center of the bed were her pager, cell phone and house keys. "She left…"

He stumbled toward the bathroom and noted the empty spaces where her toiletries used to be. "She left me."

In response to the persistent throb in his head, he fumbled into his pants pocket for his Imitrex prescription.

"_Why are you crying, Mom?" Gil asked when he came home and found his mother sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the guest room. _

_When she didn't answer, he peeked inside at the room his dad slept in. The drawers were open and empty and the closet only contained a few empty hangers. _

_Returning to his mother's side, he signed, "Ask him to come back." _

_With trembling hands, she replied, "No. If he wants to come back he'll come on his own. I'm not asking." _

_His six year old fingers couldn't get the words out fast enough. "I'll ask. Because I want him back." _

"_No!" _

"_Why?" _

"_Because you need to keep your pride. You'll lose pride if you go begging." _

"_What is pride?" _

"_Pride is your self-respect. It's the only thing they can't take away from you when you lose everything." _

After gulping down the last two pills in the bottle with a handful of water from the sink, he dropped the bottle and darted out of the bathroom.

Expecting to find evidence of where Sara had gone, he rushed to the kitchen. He clung to the notion that maybe she left a note on the fridge like she had done in the past.

When he turned the corner, he was slapped with painful reminders of yesterday's events…the tossed tray and scattered food.

_Are you sure you're not lying? Let's examine the evidence, shall we? Food!_

The sound of the tray hitting the floor rang in his ears as he averted his eyes. Unfortunately his gaze fell on the shards of shattered glass littering the room.

_Were you doubling up, Honey, or did you entertain Ron with a beverage?" _

"_Do I have to print it or are you finally going to be honest with me?"_

_Too bad your father's dead or I could reciprocate…I could give him a nice cold glass of water._

_Would that be okay, Sara? Would you feel protected if I did that?"_

The smash of the glass exploding against the wall thundered in his mind and he instinctively covered his face hoping it would all disappear but when he lowered his palms, everything was still there…the tray, the food, the glass…everything but Sara. "How could I do this to her in her own home…the one place she felt safe?"

Even in the throes of despair, Grissom was still a CSI so while he was mentally obsessing, his eye caught something out of place on the couch. Breathing hard, he raced over and grabbed the thick envelope. On the front of hit was written _Mandalay Bay 1272_ and when he opened the envelope another shockwave ripped through him. Family photos. Photos of him as a baby and then a young child…of his mother…of his parents. Photos of his parents which he had never seen…_happy _photos. It was like looking at characters you knew only from a tragic play and suddenly seeing them juxtaposed in a romantic comedy. They were smiling…laughing…they were in love.

One by one he flipped through the pictures while questions darted through his overwhelmed mind. She never told me there were happy times. "This can't be." Was I conceived out of love? She never told me my father played with me in the park or took me swimming. She told me he was never a father to me. Was there a time when he actually cared? Why do I have a cast on my leg? She never told me I broke my leg. Why didn't she have these photos in the books she showed me? Why did she keep them from me? Why did she…

Focusing intently on a particularly disturbing snapshot, he swallowed hard. "That's an…ant farm? My father built an ant farm with me? That doesn't make any sense…my mother told me my father hated bugs."

As a scientist, he was always troubled by conflicting information. As a man already on the edge of a breakdown, he was rattled to the core. "These photos…they're evidence."

_The evidence never lies._

"Why did she keep these from me?"

_People lie. The evidence never does._

He swallowed the bile rising in his throat as the realization swept over him. "She lied to me. She lied to my face." His mother's words haunted him. _Just like the opera, Gil…cosi fan tutte…they're all like that…not to be trusted. _"My god…she was talking about herself."

Stuffing the photos in the envelope, he bolted from the room.

**Shoreline Cabins  
****7:35 a.m.**

A knock on the door rattled Sara awake. "One minute, please!" She yelled as she tossed off the blanket and swung her legs off the couch. For a sleepy second she wondered where she was but reality came quickly and she recalled the tumultuous events that caused her to flee.

Through the door she heard the cabin owner's pleasant voice. "Good Morning, it's Becky Knolls. Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Sidle but you left your credit card in the office last night and I didn't want you to go out and discover it missing when you needed it."

With the blanket wrapped around her, Sara opened the front door. "Thanks." Flashing a polite smile she took the card from the woman's hand. "I would have missed it."

Becky, a forty-three year old granola-loving nature enthusiast with the energy of a twenty year old, returned the smile. "Planning on enjoying the great outdoors today? I have plenty of suggestions if you need some."

"I want to take a hike," She informed the petite woman with perky bobbed brown hair.

"Where? Around the lake or do you prefer the mountains? I have some maps if…"

"From my life actually," Sara unintentionally retorted. "Got a map for that?"

"Oh." Becky fidgeted through the awkward moment.

"Sorry…didn't mean to say that out loud." Sighing heavily, Sara asked, "Uh…where is the closest grocery store? I need to buy a few things."

Becky had no trouble answering the factual question. "Head back to the main road and take a left. About two miles you'll come to an intersection. Take a right and you'll see the store…Tahoe Tommy's."

"Great, thanks. Have a good day." Sara nodded before closing the door. "Okay…she thinks I'm a wacko." Chilled from the morning air, she hurried toward the bathroom. "She probably thinks I'm going to off myself in her beautiful cabin. Not a chance, lady. If I had suicidal tendencies I would have been gone long ago."

**Grissom's Car  
****7:44 a.m. **

Gripping his cell phone, Grissom impatiently waited for an answer. "Come on already."

"And what can I do for you this morning?" Brass greeted.

"Where is she, Jim?" He inquired in a panicky voice. "I know you know."

Nonchalantly he replied, "She's in the witness protection program hiding from whatever the hell she witnessed."

Pulling into the parking lot, Grissom pleaded, "I have to talk to her."

"Sorry…I gave my word. She specifically asked me not to tell you. Actually, I'm kind of surprised you asked because she was adamant you wouldn't care. Why would she think that, I wonder?"

"Did she tell you what happened?" He cringed at the thought.

"Nope." He groaned. "But whatever it is I'm guessing it's way more FUBAR than _Tahoe._ Because in _Tahoe_ you weren't married to her. In _Tahoe_ you didn't know about her tragic childhood and her fragile mental state regarding matters of the heart. So, if you've hurt her in any way, she has to feel exponentially worse than she did sitting alone in that antiseptic hospital room in **_Tahoe_**."

Clenching the phone, Grissom replied, "Yes, it's much worse than _Tahoe_. But how am I ever going to make it better if I can't find her. Can you give me a phone number?" He bargained.

"Right after I buy the Brooklyn Bridge from you," He grumbled. "What do you think I fell off the turnip truck yesterday? If I give you the phone number you'll know where she is. Look…I'm not going to betray her trust in me. If I do then she'll disappear and no one will know if she's okay. Understand?"

"Yes," He reluctantly admitted.

"At least you know she's safe and she has someone to call. Maybe if you give it some time she'll let me tell you. Until then…you better work on what you're going to say. Remember what Heather told you…apologies are just words coming from a guy like you."

"Since you know her so well now tell me, what exactly does she mean? Or does she have you sworn to secrecy too?"

"No, that one I can answer." He chuckled. "She has no _control _over me."

Massaging his temples, Grissom pleaded, "The point Jim."

"I believe her point to you was that an apology coming from you is meaningless because if the scenario were to come up again you'd still make the same choice…you'd always choose to close down and protect yourself rather than giving the other person a chance to explain that a betrayal did not take place. Looking back, don't you think you would have been better served to give her a chance to explain, then step back and let a third party intervene? Then she would have cooperated, been cleared and everything would have been hunky dory, right? No harm, no foul. It's a hell of a lot harder letting your pride take over, having things go to an extreme and then trying to fix it on the back end. In all other matters you take time up front to get the facts but in matters of pride…it's judge and act first, think later."

In light of the current situation, it was the last thing he wanted to hear.

"Does that help you?" Jim queried in a supportive tone.

"It clarifies things for me," He sighed as he closed his eyes and was once again plagued by Sara's terrified voice.

_I…I just wanted…"_

"_If you listen to…"_

"_No…no, I didn't. I…"_

_I wasn't…I didn't want to…yes, I lied but only because…"_

"_No…I was trying to protect you."_

Now he understood…instead of blowing up at Sara, if he had stepped back, given her a chance to explain she _might_ have offered a valid explanation that he could have verified. If she had a reasonable explanation, everything would have been fine. Instead, he chose to shut down and didn't give her a chance to speak her peace before declaring her a liar and betrayer.

"You still there, Gil?"

"Yeah." Shaking his head, he remarked, "Since I can't ask Sara why she did what she did, I'll have to ask the only other person who knows the answer."

"Who's that?"

Though the windshield he glanced up at the name on the building…_Mandalay Bay._

"I'll uh…talk to you later, Jim. Thank you for your help and if Sara asks…is she asks, tell her I'm glad she's safe and tell her…tell her that if she would let me talk to her I'd be eternally grateful."

"Listen…saying things like, _I'd be eternally grateful,_ doesn't mean anything. That's what you have to work on, pal. If Sara ever gives you a chance you better have some _**actions** _to back up your words. Understand? Don't expect to say, I promise not to do 'x' and have her swooning. I guarantee you it's not gonna happen that way this time, my friend. Once upon a time you had a magic spell over her but not anymore. So _if _you get a chance you need to say, I promise not to do 'fill in the blank' and here's what I've done to make sure I won't…or I promise to be more 'fill in the blank' and here's what I've done to prove it to you."

"Got it." He nodded, hoping he could follow the advice and praying he got the chance to use it. "Thanks for looking out for her, Jim."

"It's not totally selfless you know."

"I know. It's about Ellie."

"Take care of yourself, Gil."

"Goodbye." With the envelope of photos in hand, Grissom opened his car door. "Okay Ron…let's see what you have to say today."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

"**Second Chances – Part 7"**

**August 8, 2005 (Day 108)  
****Mandalay Bay  
****Room 1272  
****8:04 a.m.**

When Ron Grissom opened his hotel room door he expected to see a room service waiter, not his son. "Gil!" Perhaps Sara was able to reason with him and he was here to deal with the past. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"For me it's just a surprise." Stepping into the suite, Grissom held up the envelope of photos. "Is this how you got Sara to let you in the house? By appealing to her insatiable curiosity and promising to show her baby pictures of me?"

Shutting the door, Ron replied, "No…wait…why would you ask me instead of Sara? I'm the last person you would come to for answers…for anything. Why are you here?"

Coming eye to eye with his father, Grissom informed him, "I came to tell you congratulations. Twice now you've shown up out of the blue and ruined my life. I thought you'd want to know you've still got the magic touch."

"You can't ask Sara because…"

"Because she's gone!" He yelled before dropping onto the couch and lowering his head in his hands. "Yesterday morning I was at the height of happiness. I was feeding my wife breakfast in bed while we discussed how much we were looking forward to having a baby one day and now…twenty four hours and one nightmare later…" His voice faded. "…everything's ruined."

"Gil…I have no problem with you blaming me for a whole host of things…hell, for the majority of things wrong in your life, but you can't blame _me _for your wife leaving you. Not after your behavior yesterday." Ron stood looking down at his tormented son. "I tried to warn you that you were traumatizing her while you were lashing out at me. I made it perfectly clear that while I deserved your rage, she didn't. God…I don't even want to think about what you did _after_ I left."

In a strange reversal of roles, Grissom sat watching his father glaring at him with contempt.

Ron shook his head at his tempestuous boy. "Do you know when I asked Sara if you had your mother's temper she told me she was attracted to you because you were a _stable _man? Imagine the shock when she saw you crazed yesterday. She was scared to death and who can blame her? You made it clear you knew how to kill someone and get away with it. Hardly a comforting thought to the wife who has just found out her husband has a temper and he's pissed at her."

Grissom replied in an empty voice, "Amazing isn't it? You were hardly there and yet you taught me so much. I must have been paying close attention all those times you victimized your wife. It seems to have stuck with me."

"Still intent on only blaming me and not taking some of the accountability, huh?" Not happy with his son's behavior, he lectured, "Sorry, you didn't learn everything from me. I'm as far from a saint as you can get but _not once_, no matter how horrible things got between your mother and me, did I _ever_ make her fear for her safety."

The truth startled Grissom into silence. The last thing he ever thought he'd ever hear was that he was _worse _than his father and to hear it from his father just made it extraordinarily disturbing.

Sighing, Ron took a seat in a chair across from him. "Gil…I don't think I was the only one you were paying close attention to as a child. You mother had many wonderful qualities, but she was stubborn as hell and had a wicked temper whenever she felt betrayed." He hated to go down this path and immediately backpedaled. "I told Sara I had no intention of changing your perception of your mother and I meant it. It's important to me that you know I loved her and that we had wonderful years together before things went downhill." Softening his tone, he added, "Most importantly, that you understand what happened between us wasn't your fault. That's something I've always worried about over the years. Did you look at the photos in the envelope?"

"Yes." Grissom shifted on the couch while clutching the envelope. He wasn't ready to hear the veracity of his father's message so he pushed back. "Your point?"

"Let me…" Rubbing his open hand over his mouth, he searched for a good approach. "You know what…let's not do that right now. Let me go back to your original question. You want to know why Sara let me in the house, right?"

Desperate for answers, he demanded, "Yes! I'd love to know why she thought you were worthy to step foot inside."

"She didn't. She didn't think I was worthy at all." Ron smiled. "As a matter of fact, I think she wanted to kill me. The look of contempt on her face…in my life, no one has looked at me like that but your mother. Sara said…this isn't verbatim, but it's close enough…I won't let you hurt him again so turn around and do what you do best, disappear! When I didn't she blew up and offered to pay me off. She wanted to write me a check to keep me away from you and told me in no uncertain terms to get the hell off your property and never return."

Confused, Grissom pressed, "Then why did she let you in? Why did she speak with you behind my back?"

"I can certainly understand why you're confused by her behavior." Looking at his bewildered son, Ron saw a piece of himself. "After she told me to drop dead I happened to mention that I already tried that twice." He patted his chest. "I told her I had two heart attacks and underwent a triple bypass."

Digging his fingers into the plush arms of the brown velvet chair, Grissom prepared for the devastating truth he knew was on its way. "No…"

Ron was eager to drop the bomb. "Your wife was worried about your health. She offered me a glass of ice water in exchange for pertinent information that she felt might save your health…maybe your life."

Closing his eyes, Grissom slumped in the chair. In his mind's eye he saw the words of Dr. Ortiz's prescription …_Watch the footage of my wife crying on TV because she thought I was dead. _"She let you in because she was worried about me. Worried that I might have a hereditary cardiac condition and would get sick or die."

"Yeah…she grilled me like steak over a roaring fire," Ron informed his devastated son. "The other part of the deal was that I wasn't allowed to ask any questions about you. She said it would work like an interrogation…only she could ask the questions. I could only stay as long as I cooperated. So I drank my water and fielded all her health-related questions."

The room service waiter's knock interrupted their discussion.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment. That's my breakfast." Ron stood and politely offered, "Can I order you something?"

Sickened by the truths his father spoke, Grissom shook his head. "No." As if his vicious treatment of Sara wasn't bad enough even if she had betrayed him, now he had to cope with the heart-wrenching knowledge that she hadn't wronged him at all. On the contrary…everything she did, she did out of love.

While the waiter carried in the food tray and set up breakfast on the dining table, Ron empathized in silence with his suffering son. He knew all too well how easy it was to hurt someone you love. He had been a victim of the pain from his own father and had been the inflictor of it on his wife and son.

"Sir?" The waiter prodded when the guest didn't take the bill.

Anxious to get back to the conversation, Ron quickly handled the paperwork and shooed the hotel employee out the door. "Sorry for the interruption, Gil." Lifting the covers off the food, he once again asked, "Are you sure you don't want anything? There's more here than I can eat and it's all healthy stuff…egg white omelette, wheat toast…"

"You can't eat fattening food," Grissom stated in an exasperated tone. "You weren't eating the baked goods Sara had out on the table when…"

"Are you kidding?" While stirring artificial sweetener in his coffee, he chuckled. "If I ate one of those macaroons she was stuffing in her face my arteries would clog on the spot. Besides…the deal only included a glass of water, remember?"

Sara's frustrated voice shot through Grissom's head. _We weren't partying! I wasn't entertaining him! _"She was telling the truth," He somberly whispered.

Suddenly plagued by an unsettled stomach, Ron passed on breakfast and returned to his chair with only a cup of coffee. "I'm sure it's not easy to hear you interpreted the situation incorrectly."

"No. It's near impossible to handle." He couldn't hide the pain in his voice. "Aside from it being utterly humiliating because it's _my job_ to acquire the facts of a situation before making judgments, it's something I've personally screwed up multiple times since I was fourteen years old. I'll be forty-nine next week and I'm still making the same stupid mistakes." Glancing up at his father, Grissom grasped at a straw. "Why did Sara let you stay so long? It couldn't have taken very long to acquire the health information."

"I'm afraid that answer isn't going to bring you any comfort." Ron set his mug on the end table next to his chair. "It's going to make you feel even worse. Still want to hear it?"

He answered with a tentative nod.

"Gil, would I be wrong to assume you're an extremely private person like your mother was…so closed off emotionally that's it's difficult to open up to people?"

Although reluctant to share personal information with his absentee father, he answered in order to hear what was coming next. "You'd be correct in that assumption."

"Even with your wife?" Ron took a chance and pried. "In my brief time with her, it seemed that Sara was desperate for information about you." A smile found its way to his lips as he recalled the enjoyable moments of his time with his daughter-in-law. "I could say the littlest thing and she would light up and jump at the chance to know more. When I told her about your first ant farm I thought she would explode with from happiness. She even declared out loud…that's the man I know and love. Then she blurted that she hoped one day the two of you would have a boy just like you."

As he heard how much his wife loved him, Grissom realized the depth of his loss and he plunged deeper into a state of self-loathing.

Aware his son was intently listening, Ron waxed on. "I didn't mind indulging Sara because I'm a pathetic old man who has done very few decent things in his life…marrying your mother and creating you being the most significant, if not the only two. Lucky for me, those were the two areas of her interest. You were correct in assuming that once she knew I had photos of you as a child she was eager to view them. She was obsessed over your baby photo. I suspected she was trying to imagine what your progeny might look like one day." Ron picked up his coffee cup. "So you see, Sara wasn't being malicious, she was just curious about the man she married. Since you weren't filling the blanks for her, she looked to me for answers."

Once again the words provoked a shocking level of clarity and the emotional upheaval was great enough to cause Grissom to speak without remembering he was in a room with his biggest enemy. "She was always desperate to know more." Their bet at The Desperado flashed before him. _If I keep my cookies down and make it four times you'll owe me the answers to any three questions I choose to ask. _"I can't believe I…she rode that rollercoaster until she puked just to _win_ an opportunity to get closer to me. That's so wrong. And I was…I was such a jerk about it even when she won. I tricked her out of the questions she suffered to earn." A pathetic example violated his reluctant mind. _You want to ask me if there is any significance to my middle name but if you do you'll only have two personal questions left. Just ask it and get it over with before you slip up and ask something else and **never** find out. _"I dangled information like a dog treat and watched her jump for it."

Having stealthily observed the rollercoaster scene Ron tensed. He had assumed it was a playful challenge for Sara to keep up with the boys, not a way for her to earn personal knowledge of her husband. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter as he wondered, how much damage did I do to my child? How much damage did Jillian inflict? In so many ways he's like his mother…and in so many ways he's like me.

Grissom plummeted to the next level of hell. In Dante's world it would be the 5th circle…that of the wrathful and the sullen. "I knew I was a selfish ass to her over the years but I didn't realize I was **still** a selfish ass. I thought I was taking care of her…loving her…spoiling her. I was trying to make up for everything I did to hurt her…especially for Tahoe. In reality…I was still hurting her…still controlling her." In a voice as shredded as his heart, he said, "All she ever wanted was to be closer to me. She moved to Vegas to be closer to me. It took _five years_ for me to let her in my life and even then I held her at a distance. I never deserved her. All she's ever done is love me. No…the only thing I've ever deserved is **exactly** what I got today…her walking out on me."

Ron lifted his gaze off his son. It was too painful to watch him sink lower by the second.

Holding the back of his hand to his mouth, Grissom fought through his building nausea. "I thought yesterday was the first time I abused her but I've been doing it for years. and she excused it…" His voice cracked. "…of course she excused it. That's what she was conditioned to do since she was a child…pretend a man's abusive behavior is normal. Reconcile that he still loves her even though his actions aren't normal. All this time I was worried about being too much like my father when really…I should have been concerned that I was too much like _hers_." His fingers tore at his hair as he realized he belonged in the 7th circle of Dante's hell. "I can't live with the knowledge that I did this to her. Not after what she's been through…what she's witnessed. I knew! I…"

Ron got up from his seat and walked over to the couch to reach out to his son. "Gil…"

"No." Suddenly cognizant of his father's presence, Grissom lurched from the couch. "Stay away from me," He warned while backing toward the door. "I don't need anything from you."

"Right there!" Ron pointed his finger at his son. "_That's _your mother talking."

Already overloaded, he groveled, "Stop it. I…"

"No, I won't because you need a wake up call. We're going to do this right here, right now." Ron leaned against the hotel room door, blocking his son's exit. "You said it yourself yesterday…you said, everything you are today is because of your mother. Well here's what you need to know…some of the things Jillian was, some of the things you are today…aren't _good_ things."

"I can't deal with this right now," Grissom pleaded.

"_That's_ how your mother used to manipulate me. Did you use that on Sara over the years?" Unrelenting, he drove his point home. "You mother was emotionally distant…she froze me out of our bedroom and out of her life. She kept secrets from me…she didn't even tell me she was losing her hearing, I had to figure it out." Gripping his son's shoulders, he said, "Does that sound like anyone else you know? Does it? You know how I figured out your mom was going deaf?" His voice chilled. "I came home one day and heard you screaming your head off because your leg was fractured in two places and you couldn't move. Your mother was in the living room painting like she didn't have a care in the world. I was livid. I accused Jillian of neglect and that's when she finally copped to the hearing loss. Does that sound healthy to you?"

Grissom reluctantly said, "The picture of me in a cast…"

"Yes."

"This is all…" Bringing a trembling hand to his pounding head, Grissom gaped at his father.

Dropping his hands off Gil's shoulders, Ron released a labored sigh. "I was a workaholic with something to prove to my old man. I wasn't home for your mother, which in hindsight wasn't a good choice. I put my career over my wife's needs and when you were born I put my career over you."

Lightening his tone, Ron explained, "But you need to know there was a time when your mother and I were perfect. If you looked at those pictures you know it's true. It was during that time you were conceived. The two happiest days of my life were my wedding day and your birthday. That's one of the reasons I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you knew that Jillian and I loved each other and we wanted you."

"I saw the pictures," He tentatively admitted. "We did look happy as a family."

"Gil…I wasn't always a bastard, I became one. And your mother wasn't always a saint; she just became one in your eyes because, like you said…she did the most important thing in the world for you…she stayed. My biggest regret is letting us get ugly in front of you. Putting you in the middle of drama was despicable. Until now I thought I did you a favor in leaving because at least you didn't have to watch us hate each other anymore. But now…now I realize it was a cop out. Jillian and I should have been able to put your well-being above our anger. I apologize for both of us."

Mentally maxed out, Grissom didn't even attempt to respond.

"Son, if you get Sara back…if you ever expect her to make it for the long haul, then you need to change. Maybe the only reason Sara has been able to take it for so long is because she doesn't know any better. One day she'll wake up and when she does…she may never come back to you."

"I think that already happened." Pointing to the door, he asked, "Could you um…I need some time to think about all this."

Ron held his position and inquired in a paternal tone, "Gil, when was the last time you slept? You look exhausted. You're not in any condition to drive, so how about resting here for a little while?"

"No, I really want to go home." He motioned for Ron to move away from the door. "My head is killing me and I need to take something."

"Then let me drive you." In his best salesperson voice, he said, "Come on…I have enough guilt to last me through eternity. If I let you drive in the condition you're in and you wrap your car around a tree…"

"Okay." As much as it pained him, he knew the man was right. "But you're not coming in, because I want to be alone."

"I promise I won't ask." Opening the door, Ron replied with a chuckle. "I'll just drop you at the curb and speed away."

"Just like old times," Grissom sadly commented as he walked through the open door.

**Greg's Apartment  
****8:45 a.m.**

Snuggled under the covers, still buzzing from making love for the first time, Tawny and Greg continued exchanging personal information.

"What else do you want to know about me?" He eagerly volunteered, "Ask me anything."

"What about childhood pets?" She inquired while propping up on her elbow and adjusting the white t-shirt of Greg's she was wearing. "For some reason I picture a hamster in a giant Habitrail taking up half your room."

"Oh man! You nailed that one." Greg oozed with excitement. "Skippy the Wonder Hamster! He was the coolest. All the money I got for birthdays and holidays from my grandparents, aunts and uncles, went into expanding The Hotel Habitrail. That place was da bomb! In Vegas standards it would Caesar's."

"A hamster…I knew it," She gloated as she fell deeper in love.

"What about you?" He tried to read her eyes. "Hmm…whenever I come through the door…you greet me with kisses…I love that by the way. Because you're so affectionate, I'm going to say you are a dog person"

"Bingo!"

"Bingo was his name-o?" He chuckled while diving for her neck to greet her with a few kisses of his own.

Giggling from the butterfly touch of his lips she replied, "No, his name was Mr. Pepper. He was the sweetest mutt. I named him Mr. Pepper because he was white with all these little dots of black on his body."

"Did he get to sleep in your bed?" Greg inquired through a wild grin. "Because then his name should have been _Lucky_. That's what I'm changing my name to now that I get to curl up next to you. I really enjoyed waking up with you in my arms yesterday."

"Oh no!" Tawny fanned her eyes while laughing. "Sweetie, you sent me into pregnancy hormone overdrive with that one."

"Uh oh!" He rolled out of bed and donned his boxers. "Tissues and chocolate coming up."

Brushing away her happy tears, she watched him dart out of the room. "I love you, Greg," She whispered once he was out of earshot. "I'm the one who should change their name to Lucky."

Twenty seconds later he returned with a Snickers bar and a paper towel. "You used up the last box of tissues yesterday so I had to get you this." Sitting on the edge of the bed he gave her the large white square. "I'll go shopping when you go to work today."

"What time is it?" She panicked. "I'm meeting your friend Catherine at Café Express an hour before my noon shift, remember?."

"Relax, you've got plenty of time," He happily informed her while peeling open the Snickers bar. "Mind if we share this? I haven't eaten anything since I puked my guts out at the scene."

Snagging half the bar, she teased, "Thankfully you showered, changed clothes and brushed your teeth in the locker room at work before you came home this morning. As much as I wanted to make love with you…that might have been a deal breaker."

"Duly noted." He winked. "It's nine o'clock by the way."

"That's it?" She said surprised. "I thought we were in bed a lot longer than that."

"Hey now!" He jokingly shrieked after swallowing the last bite of Snickers. "A guy could take that as a slam. Especially a guy like me who's a little shy about having his performance critiqued." Laughing he said, "I uh…have a slight case of post traumatic stress disorder due to this _incident_ in college. I'm laughing now but at the time…really not funny."

Nonchalantly, she asked, "You want to know how you compare to the other guys I've been with?"

They hadn't discussed it, but he assumed she outranked him in experience by a long shot. "Hell no!"

"Oh…I think you do," She purred while pulling him close. "Greg, you've taken me places I've never been. You weren't the first man to have me, but you'll have to be the last because I can't imagine _anyone_ loving me better than you, Baby."

Stunned, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Holy shit! That's the hottest thing a girl has ever said to me!"

"Really?" Delighted by his reaction she burst into a brilliant smile.

"Not that the list of _hot things girls have said to me_ is particularly long but…damn!" He covered her mouth with a Snicker-flavored kiss as he tackled her. "I think I just figured out a way to kill a little more time before you have to leave."

The ring of the phone on the nightstand broke the moment.

"Oh no…it's nine o'clock on a Monday morning." Groaning, he peeled himself away. "It's my mother."

"Your mother?" Tawny grabbed the covers as if the woman could see them.

Reaching for the phone he explained, "She calls every Monday at nine to check up on me. Don't worry…other than this she stays out of my hair. We don't have some kind of obsessive thing going on in case you're worried. And my parents live in California, so it's not like they drop in all the time."

"Oh." She nodded. "I uh…wasn't worried."

"Sorry." He clicked the button, "Hi, mom. Hey…I was uh…brushing my teeth. Can I put you on hold for a sec? Thanks." After pushing the hold button, he smiled, "I'm going to tell her about you."

"Really?" Suddenly the interruption wasn't annoying at all. "I'll grab a shower so you can have some privacy."

"Thanks." He stood up with her. "I'm taking the phone out to the kitchen because I'm still starving."

Stepping into the bathroom, she snickered, "Nah…you just don't want to talk to your mommy in the same room we…"

"Shhh." He laughed as he clicked off the hold button. "Okay, Mom…your favorite child is all ears."

"Does my _only child_ have company this morning?" Bev Sanders teased. "Or were you really brushing your teeth?"

Yanking open the fridge, he innocently replied, "I'm the son of a dentist…what do you think?" Hopping up on the counter, he drank from the orange juice container.

"You're still swigging from the carton?"

"It's creepy how you know this stuff."

"You make a very distinct noise when you do it."

Placing the container on the counter he said, "If you ever want to stop teaching music to those high school brats, you'd make a great CSI."

"How's the job going?" She inquired.

"It's not a _job_…it's an adventure!" Suddenly reminded of the night's events, he shivered.

"Still a little skittish? How's Grissom treating you?"

"It's a little stressful, and Grissom…well you know, he treats me just like Dad, always pushing me…but most of the time it helps. Actually he's been a lot better lately." Glancing back toward the bedroom he said, "Uh I've got a new coping mechanism and I think I'm going to make it."

"You were safer in the lab."

"Uh…that's not what you thought when you came to see me in the hospital after the explosion." He remembered her hysterics like it was yesterday.

"That was a fluke."

Knowing the tangent, he decided to throw her. "Hey! I met someone!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, and it's pretty serious."

"Guy or girl? Honey, you know I'll be supportive either way."

"Mom…" Laughing from his gut, he assured her, "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm straight. _Her_ name is Tawny Cooper."

"Sounds cute as a button. How old is she?"

"22." He knew that would be one of the easier questions to answer.

"Trolling college campuses again?"

Grinning, he remarked, "I love it that my mom knows how to use the word trolling in proper context."

"Son…I teach in a high school full of horny teens, you'd be amazed at the words I know. I bet I could really squick you out."

"I'll take your word for it."

"So where did you meet Tawny?"

"A club."

"Is she a student or does she have a job already?"

"She's waitressing at The Cheesecake Factory while going to school." He didn't feel guilty because it was all the truth and nothing but the truth.

"What's she studying?"

It was the first one he couldn't field. "She's still deciding on a major."

"At 22?"

"She worked for a while and just returned to college. She's incredibly smart…especially gifted in math. Maybe Chemistry too. Her dad was a high school math teacher before he passed away."

"Have you met her mother?"

"No…she lives in Kansas."

"What does young Tawny look like?"

Cracking a grin, he described her. "A total knockout…gorgeous smile, deep brown eyes, thick wavy golden hair and a body to…" Remembering with whom he was speaking, he said, "She's petite, five four."

"She's got a nice rack, huh?"

"Mother!" He gasped. "I'll have to check the next time I see her because I don't recall."

"If you marry her one day it sounds like the two of you will have beautiful children."

"Yeah." He knew instantly that his nervous laugh tipped his hand so he decided now was a perfect time to drop the bomb. "Funny you should say that."

"Gregory Hojem Sanders, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Wincing he asked, "Would you have been less upset if I was gay?"

"Yes! A young girl wouldn't be pregnant if you were gay! I don't believe you let this happen! Your father is going to be livid! When you got your driver's license he bought you a box of condoms and lectured you on responsibility…"

"I know! I know! And for the record, those condoms expired WAY before I ever needed one." He gripped his forehead. "I'm sorry…I know you never planned on becoming a grandma this way. But Tawny and I…neither of us could stomach the idea of terminating the pregnancy."

"Good…because then I'd be even more disappointed in you." She exhaled sharply. "At least_ now_ you're being responsible."

"I am. I'm taking good care of her," He proudly replied. "I know it's a shock but I hope you'll support us because…"

"What other choice do I have?" She boomed. "You're my only child and I love you unconditionally so what am I going to do? Disown you? Although I'm royally ticked off at you I'm not going to turn my back when you need me the most. Life's too short. An unplanned baby out of wedlock, while it's hardly what I envisioned for our family, in the grand scheme of things…it's…it's not the end of the world. You're thirty, not sixteen like the kids I see dealing with this same situation at school. You already have an education and a job so you can support a family. Can you tell I'm _really_ trying here? I'm _really_ trying, Greg."

"I know it's a lot to deal with when you first find out." Shaking his head, he admitted, "I hurled."

"Good! Ugh! Perspective…I need to keep some perspective, right? You're not blown up again…or god forbid, dead. And it's not like you're telling me you're going to jail."

"I almost did yesterday!" He boasted without thinking.

"What!"

Slapping his forehead, he shrieked, "Just kidding! I was uh…trying to make your point. You know…that a baby isn't a crime. Thanks for supporting my decision, Mom." Hopping off the counter, he tensely asked, "How do you think Dad is going to take the news?"

"That's rhetorical, right?"

Pacing towards the living room, he chomped on the nail of his index finger. "Maybe you could…I was kind of hoping you could soften the blow for me. Like when I quit the swim team and…"

"This is a little more serious than that, Gregory!"

Swallowing hard, he said, "I know. The thing is…it's not the best timing and I know we're not married but…Tawny is a great girl and I really think we can make this work…I want to make it work. It will be better for the baby if there's no tension in the family."

"The family should be prepared for this…your grandmother predicted you'd get a girl pregnant if you moved to Vegas, remember?" Chuckling she remarked, "At least she was only half right. She said the girl would be a stripper not a waitress!"

Wincing, he desperately tried to think of a snappy retort, but the delayed response cost him.

"Oh god! What kind of _club_ did you meet her in, Greg? Please tell me you didn't have unprotected sex with a stripper? What about disease!"

Covering his face, he pleaded, "Please…please calm down. This was the only time for either of us and we both tested clean, so please don't worry, okay? I can fax you the results if it will make you feel better."

"This is _not_ the phone conversation I thought we'd be having this morning."

Plopping on the couch, he tenderly explained, "Mom…Tawny is a decent girl who got dealt a few bad breaks in life. Her old job was a way to make ends meet, it doesn't define who she is…not by a long shot. I need you to trust me on this, okay?" Trying desperately to win her over, he gave her the only other information he thought might do the trick. "This morning when I came home from the worst night on the job and started pounding beers trying to drown the images of the blood in my mind…she helped me. She encouraged me and she held me and just when I thought I might never smile again…she got me to smile. She loves me, Mom."

A heavy sigh preceded Bev Sanders's next question. "Are you going to marry her?"

"I can't think about that yet," He admitted. "We're taking things slow."

"Uh…if that were the case I don't think she'd be pregnant with your child!"

"Sorry…" He chuckled lightly. "I meant _since_ then. She just moved in a few days ago."

"Oh good lord. How long until I'm a grandma?"

Smiling, he answered, "April."

"I'll start working on your father," She droned. "First I'll tell him I think you're gay. Then a few weeks later I'll drop Tawny's name. Then I'll mention I think it's serious and that you're shacking up. But you are still responsible for delivering the final blow, understand?"

"Deal." He exhaled the stress from his body. "Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"Ugh…I love you too, Son."

**The Grissoms'  
****9:14 a.m.**

"Son, are you sure you're going to be okay?" Ron asked in a concerned tone. "I know you said you wanted to be alone but…"

"I've asked you not to call me that," Grissom curtly replied as he wrapped his fingers around the car door handle.

"Sorry, Gil." He nodded. "I think it was instinctual because I'm concerned…you look quite ill."

"I get migraines." He popped open the door. "But I haven't had one in almost a year, so I'm not used to them anymore. The rollercoaster ride you just took me on only made it worse."

Not wanting to push the issue, he made a polite offer. "I'll be in town for a week in case you need anything or have anymore questions."

Gripping the door, he replied, "Honestly, I don't plan on seeing you again. So…thank you for living up to the meaning of your name, Aaron, one who sheds light. This last twenty-four hours has been most illuminating."

"I hope it helps and I hope you get another chance with Sara. From the short amount of time I spent with her, I could tell she was a fantastic woman. I'm sure she still loves you, Gil and if you work for it, you can fix it. On the other hand, if you do nothing, expect nothing. I know a parental lecture wasn't part of the deal so I'll shut up now." Lifting his hand, he waved. "Take care."

"Goodbye," Grissom quietly said before turning to walk toward the house…the house where Sara used to live…the house he was certain he couldn't live in without her.

**Greg's Apartment  
****9:17 a.m. **

Tawny was in the bathroom blow drying her golden mane when Greg burst through the door.

"I told her!" Now that the albatross was gone, he beamed. "I told her _everything_!"

"Did she disown you?" She warily asked, thinking of her own mother's treatment of her.

"On the contrary…" From behind he slipped his arms around her waist. "Of course she was shocked but she loves me and was ultimately very supportive."

Breathing out, Tawny said, "I was worried you'd have to choose between her and me." And like her mom chose her stepfather, she had a feeling she'd come in second again.

"No worries." Lifting her hair off her shoulders, he sweetly said, "I told her what you look like. She thinks we'll have a beautiful baby."

Together they looked at their reflections in the bathroom mirror.

"I think she's right," He stated while nuzzling up to her.

Overcome by the moment, Tawny whispered, "I love you, Greg." Then she watched for his reaction in the mirror's glass.

"I told her that too," He tenderly confessed before averting his eyes. "You know…I…"

More than content with the glimmer she had caught in his eyes, she turned and rescued him with a kiss.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

"**Second Chances – Part 8"**

**The Grissoms'  
****9:20 a.m. **

After shutting the front door behind him, Grissom stood in the hallway listening to the silence. Silence that reminded him of his college dorm room, of his first apartment, of his old Vegas townhouse…of every place he'd ever lived In every place, he lived in alone.

This house was the first place he'd ever shared and it was purchased specifically for the purpose. It was never meant for one. It was meant to be shared with Sara. It was their house and everything in it reminded him of her…and of his loss…a loss he instigated with his deplorable behavior. The loss that was killing him a little more with each passing minute.

_The house is ours, Sara. I provided the money but you turned the house into a **home**._

The only home he'd ever known prior to this one was that of his youth and now that memory was tainted too. His mother wasn't the saint he believed her to be. She had done the very things he lashed out at Sara for…lying and betraying. Only unlike Sara, his mother did them for selfish reasons. Now he knew his mother's teachings, which he once believed were the gospel truth, were fueled by her bitterness.

Although he was certain she was brainwashing him to shield him from pain, he understood now that protection came at too high a price. It cost him the ability to trust, to emotionally connect, to communicate, to love freely, to hurt, to cope…and to learn how to heal.

Reaching into his pants pocket, he retrieved the envelope of photos. Pulling out the stack, he focused on the college photo of his parents looking blissfully in love. They were at a cotillion, his father in a dashing tux and his mother in a demure pink gown. It was a startling reminder that a relationship could start out as bright as the Northern Star and then fade over time until darkness consumed its last flicker of light.

_The last place I want to be is anywhere near you!_

Staring at his father in a tux, Grissom's thoughts turned to San Francisco and the wonderful night he had shared with Sara. How beautiful she looked in her red gown…how her smile was as sparkly as the diamond necklace he fastened around her neck. But the thing he remembered most was her eagerness to be on his arm and to let the world know she loved him and they were a happy couple.

_Sara, you look amazing…everything…I love everything…I love you._

Physically weakening, he leaned against the wall. "I do love you, Sara," He declared to the emptiness surrounding him. Closing his eyes, he continued the heartfelt confession. "I know you can't possibly believe it after what I did to you but…I do. I love you more than anything and I need you. I need you to keep going, I need you as much as I need the air I'm breathing. I don't want my old life back. All I want is a life with you. I love you, Sara…**_I do_**."

_Gil, do you agree to receive Sara as your lawfully wedded wife?_

_Do you promise to love and respect her…_

_To honor and cherish her in sickness and in health…as long as you both shall live?_

_**I do.**_

"I did promise, but now I realize I was only living up to part of the promise. I promised to love you and I did…I still do with all my heart. I promised to respect you but I didn't. I thought I cherished you but, if I truly had, I never would have let you get hurt. And when it comes to honor…I failed you time and again. I broke our vows and I don't deserve you. Jim was right all along…I never deserved you, Sara. You only put up with it because…" In his aching head, he heard Brass's voice…w_e both know you lucked out with Sara because she was needy and vulnerable. Any other woman would have told you to go to hell._

Opening his eyes, he took a jagged breath. After a brisk walk down the hall, he arrived at the crime scene. Glancing around he acquainted himself…the tossed tray, the scattered food, the shards of glass. It was all still there, frozen in time…a painful reminder of his animalistic behavior.

_What's it going to take to make you get it, Sara!_

What did she think in that moment? He dreaded the answer but forced it to materialize. In that moment when you were scalding her with your eyes…when you were berating her through gritted teeth…when you were looming over her while she trembled in fear. You know what she was thinking!

_Stay away from me! Stay the hell away from me!_

She _believed_ you were going to hit her…and she was right. You did a strike a blow yesterday. You landed one in the middle of her psyche and it was a knock out punch. An external bruise would only have been a formality.

Staring at the wall he had backed her against, he thought, wherever Sara is right now, she's out there _believing_ I could do it…believing I wanted to do it. Believing that yesterday was an escalation. That tomorrow there could be another and that it would keep getting worse…that I was capable of being worse.

I know Sara is acquainted with escalation. She grew up watching the process and she has seen the word printed in hundreds of case files and heard the victims' stories spoken by a survivor or a corpse.

Escalation is always preceded by a starting point. The rapist begins as a man whose eye is caught by a pretty girl. _I want her_, he says and when he's not given what he wants, he takes it. The murderer is born with a betrayal. _I could kill her for what she did to me, _he rages and when an opportunity presents itself he puts his thoughts into action

The abuser is no different. _I need to show her who's the boss_, he proclaims. He shows her who's boss when she doesn't do as he asks…when she's not where he wants her to be…when she's not focused on _him_. And just like the rapist and the murderer, the abuser starts out small…

_I paged you two hours ago!_

_I need you here!_

_I know it's your day off but I need you to come in._

_Now, Sara!_

And then it escalates and escalates until one day you're standing in a living room throwing things in a blind rage while you scream at her, while _you show her who's the boss_…

_You still aren't getting it, Sara! **Look at me!**_

"_How can I **make you understand** what you've done to me?"_

It was all about me. It was always about me. Things on my terms…when I said it was time…when it would benefit me. And the only time I truly sacrificed was when I was about to lose her…lose my control over her.

_I hope…if it's not too late…that you'll stay in Vegas and we...we can make this work._

She was the perfect victim.

A rapist…a murderer…an abuser… they have some things in common. For instance, they often _choose _their victims wisely.

They choose a victim who is available…someone who can be manipulated into the right spot at the right time.

_The lab needs you, Sara._

They choose a victim who is vulnerable…someone who will fall for a line.

_Since when are you interested in beauty? Since I met you._

They choose a victim who won't put up a fight.

_I should know better than to question your judgment, Grissom._

Numbed by the realization, he said in a detached voice, "You should have known better than to trust me, Sara. You know why I never forgave myself for what I did to you in Tahoe? Because deep down, I knew I could hurt you like that again. Yesterday I proved my point."

Lost, Grissom crossed the room and knelt down before the spray of glass.

He surveyed his handiwork. "It's broken beyond repair." Breathing out he touched the first jagged piece. "Destroyed." After lifting it, he cradled the shard in his palm so he didn't do any further damage. "Are we beyond repair, Sara? Are we like this fractured glass?" He questioned as his eyes closed...

_While she was in the kitchen Grissom picked up an issue of Forensic Science Communications from the end table. "Did you read the article in here on glass fractures?" He held up the publication for her to see. _

"_The part on Wallner lines?" _

"_Yeah."_

"_Good information." Returning to the living room she handed him a tumbler. "Rum and coke, that's all I have." _

"_That's fine." _

_He took a sip while she gulped. _

"_Grissom…" Her voice wavered. "Can I…I need to ask you…" She took another sip before breaking into a nervous smile. "I have to get something out of the way here. When you said you didn't have to be anywhere until tomorrow night were you thinking… were you... planning to stay?" Over talking her point, she rambled on. "I mean…stay the **whole** night…together…but not necessarily in this particular room." _

_After swallowing another sip of his drink he cautiously replied, "That depends…do you want me to stay?" He set the half full glass on the end table. _

_Finishing her drink she put her glass next to his. "If you_ _want to stay… then, I want you to stay. So um…do you want to stay?"_

_Locking his eyes on hers, he boldly said, "I'd love to stay, Sara." _

"_Good." Breathing deeply, she said, "Good. I'm glad we got that out of the way." _

_Taking the magazine out of his hand, she plopped on the couch. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like discuss Wallner lines until the rum kicks in." _

_Joining her on the couch, he snuggled up beside her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "We can discuss Wallner lines as long as you'd like." _

_Smiling she nestled into his arms. "Tell me something about them." _

"_Wallner lines are almost always concave in the direction from which a crack is propagating." _

"_Very good." She nodded. "By observing the Wallner lines on radial cracks can you determine the direction of the breaking force?" _

"_Yes, you can." Taking her hand in his he spoke softly, "But it's very important that you observe the Wallner lines only at the point of impact."_

_While quivering from his touch she forced out her next question. "What if the impact point is not preserved?" _

"**_The glass must be reconstructed."_**_ He smoothly replied before bringing her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss over it. _

"Fractured glass can be reconstructed," He whispered as his mind carried him away again…

"_Sounds like you're getting a tutorial on glass fractures, Greg." Stopping next to Sara, Grissom grinned. "And you couldn't be in better hands. Sara has intimate knowledge of the subject." _

"_But why rely on me when you have **an expert** right here to explain." Stepping closer to her partner Sara said, "Grissom I'd love to hear you tell him the 4R rule."_

His mind raced with the possibilities…I can put it back together for us, Sara. I'm an expert, remember? I can identify the breaking forces, the cracks and the points of impact. If I do that I will understand why things happened. If I understand _why _then I can prevent the same things from happening again. I'll be a wiser man so I'll make better choices and then I'll be a better man…only then will I truly deserve you.

The sudden ring of the house phone made his hand jerk, forcing the razor-edge of the glass into his palm. Inhaling sharply from the searing pain, the surge of air roused him. "Sara?"

Dropping the glass he raced for the phone.

But when he checked the caller ID he was crushed to see it was only the ENT's office. He figured they were calling to confirm his appointment scheduled for tomorrow. Sara was supposed to go with him. _Sara is supposed to be here. _

When he brought his hand to his throbbing head, he realized he was bleeding. Surprised by the discovery, he watched the red liquid streak down his elevated arm and drip onto the tile floor leaving perfect low velocity spatter.

Staring at the blood seeping out of his injured left hand and covering his wedding band, he thought, the blood is on my hand…I'm the only one who can make this better.

To stop the bleed and start the healing process, he grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and wrapped it tightly around the palm that now throbbed in sync with his head.

First he would retrieve first aid supplies from the bathroom to treat the cut, next he would swallow some more Imitrex to quell the blinding pain in his head and then he would sit and think of a plan…an _action _plan. Not just words…_actions_.

Believing for the first time there was a hope, he hurried out of the room toward the bedroom.

When he turned down the hall he noticed the door across from the master suite was ajar. His curious mind wondered why the door would be open when they never used the empty room. Had his father been snooping?

Stepping into the room, Grissom's eyes were drawn to the magazines fanned out on the floor circling a notebook. Slowly he approached the display and with each step his heart hammered harder until he stood over the evidence and felt it shatter into as many pieces as the glass on the floor in the other room.

Nursery photos filled the magazine pages. Cheery pictures of ladybugs, silly beetles and construction worker ants. He imagined her sitting here happily planning their future baby's room with a smile plastered on her face…a beautifully serene smile. Like he did regularly when piecing together cases, he played the scene in his head like a movie…her blissfully secure expression…the ring of the doorbell…her strolling down the hall without a care in the world…the door opening…her shock from his father's presence. One minute she had everything and then the trigger to a devastating chain of events was pulled and she lost it all.

Choking back his tears, he gently picked up her notebook and studied her thoughtful design. Her love for him and their future child filled the page. Suddenly he couldn't stay in the room because the walls were closing in on him along with the truth. The truth that he had a _perfect life_ and a _perfect wife_ and now they were both _gone. _

_So you took her life…now you have nothing._

_I'm still here._

_Are you?_

Upon staggering into their bedroom he surveyed the open drawers which once held Sara's things. His head pounded and he knew he should lie down, but he couldn't bring himself to climb into bed…not without her. Instead, he slid down the wall and once he reached the floor, he doubled over from the pain. The pain of his blistering migraine, his colossal mistake and his profound loss.

And just when he thought he couldn't sink any lower than he already had, just when he thought he couldn't feel another ounce of agony, he looked at the notebook he was clutching and saw Sara's handwriting peeking through from beneath the nursery design. Minutes before her world had come crashing down around her, she had written him one of her famous love notes.

With a quaking hand, he peeled back the top page and as he read her loving words, his tear drops crashed against the paper.

_To my loving husband and future father of my child, _

_As soon as you left for work this morning I missed you. I wish we could have stayed in bed all day talking about our future. About the baby we're going to create this month with the help of scientific prediction methodology! My glass is half-full you see, I hope yours is also! To humor the pragmatist in you I'll say this…whether I get pregnant this month or not, I know one day we're going to get our chance to be a family and to be the parents I always wished I had. _

_I know you're worried about being a dad because you didn't have a decent one, but you shouldn't be. We don't have to repeat the mistakes of our parents. We can acknowledge our parents' deficiencies and do better. Trust me…I believe that or I wouldn't let myself become a mother. Each generation gets better, remember? First there was the shovel attracting flies and now we have DNA. _

_Even if you're not convinced, I know you're going to be a terrific dad. I know because you're already a loving and attentive husband. The kind of husband who brings his sleepy wife breakfast in bed and feeds her strawberries. The kind of husband who knows his wife loves him too much to lose him before it's time, so he walks on the treadmill for four miles and skips the cream in his coffee. The kind of husband who knows that love and security mean the world to his wife so he spends time thinking of ways to make her feel safer. That's the kind of guy my father never was to his wife. That's the kind of guy your father never was to his. So you see, if you're the polar opposite of these pathetic men as a husband, then you will be the polar opposite of them as a father. Do you believe me now? _

_Believe this…I can't wait to watch you holding our baby in your arms. I can't wait to see your face light up when you walk through the door after work and catch me cradling our precious child. And I can't wait to hear you read him or her a bug book and watch you beam with excitement. _

_I got so excited thinking about these things that I came in here to do a little planning. I know I'm putting the baby before the ovum, but I can't help it! I can't help it because I love you so much and I'm so excited to start this chapter in our life…in our wonderful life together as husband and wife. Thank you for indulging me and for putting up with my impatience. Thank you for loving me just the way I am. _

_So what do you think of my nursery plan for our little worker ant or a ladybug? Hmm…I hope you're okay with a bug theme? Ha! As if there was another option for our future Entomologist. Nope, teddy bears just won't do for our child! Our child will snuggle a stuffed dragonfly and hold grasshopper tea parties. Is that what you did as a child? I wish I knew. The next time I win a bet I'm asking for photo evidence that you even were a child. I know you must have a picture hidden somewhere. If I saw you as a child I could imagine what our son would look like (and yes I still believe we will have a boy, I was just humoring you above by writing 'him or her'). Whenever I imagine him, I always picture him as wonderful as you. _

_Damn! Can you imagine how sappy I'll be when I'm overloaded with pregnancy hormones! That reminds me, I need to eat some chocolate. Per the neighbors, I've got to fatten these child-bearing hips!_

_Your loving wife, _

_Sara _

**Tahoe Tommy's  
****10:30 a.m. **

Sara aimlessly strolled through the aisles of the neighborhood market trying to find something that would spark her lost appetite.

Eventually she found herself standing in front of the refrigerator cases eyeing a six-pack of beer and recalling her husband's thoughts on her relationship with alcohol. _I believe the potential to have a problem exists within you. I think it would only manifest if you didn't have anywhere else to turn in a time of serious need but, you have a husband who loves you, you have Dr. Myers available to you, and you have friends who care. You have a support system, so you don't need a bottle._

Opening the refrigerator door, she grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and thought, I still have all those things, they're just not at my disposal right now.

While mulling over the bags of salty snacks, she couldn't help overhear a conversation between two college-age girls.

"I don't know why you thought coming to Tahoe was a good idea, Casey. Everywhere I look I'm reminded of when I was here last year with Mike."

"We're here so you can get some closure. That bum didn't deserve you. We're going to have a great time this week and you'll get over him. "

Sara plucked a bag of crunchy Cheetos from the display and pondered the girls' exchange. Tahoe…Mike…that bum. It was eerily similar to her own experience the last time she was here.

When she reached the counter with her purchases, Sara noticed a rack of postcards depicting the best scenes of the beautiful area. "Hmm…" She hummed out loud before selecting a jumbo card with a photo of the same mountain she hiked with the bum himself, Mike Rodgers.

"Are you getting that postcard too, Miss?" The clerk inquired as he bagged her snacks.

"Yes." Smiling, she tossed it in the bag. "I suddenly feel like sending someone a message."

**Café Express  
****11:25 a.m. **

Sitting together at a corner table in the bustling café, Tawny and Catherine continued to swap dancer stories to break the ice.

Smacking the table with her open hand, Catherine gloated, "I must have taken this guy for two hundred bucks before he realized I wasn't a hooker. He was so wasted he thought he was on Fremont instead of in the club. By the time he figured out he wasn't gettin' lucky my shift was over and I was driving home." Picking up her coffee, she grinned, "I used the cash the next day to buy my Chemistry books for the semester. When no one else is looking out for you, you gotta do whatcha gotta do, right?"

"Right!" Tawny relaxed a little more. "Here's a funny one. My first night at Tweeter's, the girl dressed as The Swan slipped off the stage and landed in a customer's nachos." Gripping her latte, Tawny shook with laughter. "When the bouncers helped her up, she had refried beans and chips pasted to her butt!"

"And they say swan's are graceful," Catherine chortled.

"Trust me…she turned into a real ugly duckling when the guy tried to eat his nachos off her ass!"

"Ugh." Catherine rolled her eyes. "See…people look down on the dancers but we're not the ones with the problems. Aren't the men who have to empty their wallets just to glimpse some T&A, or some nachos stuck on a girl's ass, the ones with the _real _issues?"

Tawny shuddered, "There's some real freaks out there."

"You don't have to tell me, Sweetie. I still get to hang with them nightly." Sighing, she reclined in her chair. "Now, instead of taking their money, I take their freedom. You know…a lot of what I learned to cope with as a dancer helps me in my career today. Greg said you're a math whiz, if you're good at science maybe you should consider working toward a career as a CSI."

"No, thanks." She vehemently shook her head. "After seeing how tense Greggy is when he comes home from a hard night, I think I'll pass. I'd rather have a normal job so I can stay mentally strong for him."

Catherine smiled at the twitter-painted girl. "You really love him, doncha?" She winked as she raised her cup.

"What's not to love about Greg!" She boasted.

Choking on her coffee, Catherine grabbed for a napkin. "Honey, you've only known him for a month! I've worked with him for _six years_. Trust me…you'll eventually realize he's got a _few_ flaws. Oh and a word of warning…watch your hair products! That little thief swipes hair spray from my locker daily."

Tawny giggled, "He did seem pretty excited about my hair gel collection."

"See!" Feeling devious, she asked, "Did you catch him putting on your lingerie and stilettos yet?"

Tawny nervously replied, "Um…do you mean Greg likes to…?"

Cracking up, Catherine informed the forlorn girl, "Just yanking your chain."

"You had me going there for a minute." She clutched her chest. "I dated a guy who did that once and it was really creepy. I mean, if people like that sort of thing that's fine, but don't just spring it on a girl! Give her the option of saying no thanks, right? And that's definitely a 'no thanks' kind of thing for me."

"I bet you've had your share of loser boyfriends." Catherine grumbled, "Me too. I married the worst one of the lot. Left me with no money and a daughter to raise."

"Did you marry him because you were pregnant?"

"No, we were already married. It started out good but we crashed and burned pretty quick." Catherine released a weighted sigh. "I was angry about it for a long time, but a year of therapy helped me get over it."

"I'm going to therapy too!" Tawny announced like it was the hot new trend. "Mr. Grissom called this doctor who he works with on cases and she's seeing me for free. I called the office this morning and they had a cancellation for tomorrow so I took the appointment!"

"Wait a minute. Back up." Catherine cocked her head. "Do you mean Dr. Myers?"

"Yes! Is that who you saw?"

"No, I had to go with some second-rate shrink on my insurance plan." Catherine knew that the phenomenal Dr. Myers wouldn't work for free if she was counseling Mother Teresa. "So Grissom set this up for you, huh?" She realized he must be footing the bill just like he did for Sara. "Interesting."

"Isn't he the best!" Tawny glowed. "We had a really great talk the other day. He was so warm and open with me and soooo helpful. And yesterday, he told Greg that he would help me with my English Lit class."

"Grissom?" Catherine's brows knitted. "Warm and open? _Gil _Grissom?"

"Yes. He even let me bawl my eyes out in his arms," Tawny confirmed with a strong nod. "He reminds me a lot of my dad…smart, supportive and stable. He has a real gentle quality with people."

"_Gil Grissom_? Greg's boss?" Never had she heard anyone, other than Sara, describe Gil in such a way.

"Yes!" Tawny chuckled. "What?" Then she realized what the problem must be. "_Oh_…I know! It sounds weird for me to think of him like a father figure 'cause you know I wanted to strip for him. Yeah…at the time I didn't _know_ him, so I only saw him as a walking wallet. _Now_ it would never cross my mind. It makes me nauseous just thinking about it. Of course, n_ow _I won't take my clothes off for anyone." A devilish grin appeared on her face. "Well…anyone but Greggy." In a whisper she announced, "We made love for the first time this morning. It was my first time ever! It…was…_fabulous_!"

"Uh…" Catherine gaped at the girl. "Are ya tellin' me you conceived that baby through artificial insemination and you just lost your virginity? Because that would be hard to…"

"No!" She laughed as she slid closer. "Before today we only had sex. Then after the baby news we weren't even kissing. _Today_…he made love to me. He's the first guy who ever _loved_ me."

"He told you he loves you?" Catherine inquired in a surprised tone. Greg was moving faster than she figured.

"He told me with his eyes," She excitedly replied. "I _said _it though!"

"Ahhh." Tossing her hair off her shoulder, she advised, "Don't push him to say it, okay? Trust me…it will sound much better if he says it because he _wants_ to, rather than because he feels obligated. So don't say it again until he does, got it?"

"Okay." Tawny eased into a smile. "But I definitely know he _cares_ about me and plans on sticking around because this morning, he told his mom everything about me…even that I used to strip!"

Catherine bristled as she pointedly spoke. "If you only listen to _one _thing I have to say today, this is it! Whatever you do, don't piss off Mama Sanders! If you hurt her little boy then count on her opening up a can of whoop ass!"

"How do you know this?"

"Are you kidding? I'm the one who accidentally blew up the lab and put her baby in the hospital with third degree burns!" Catherine shivered at the memory. "Let's just say she had a few choice words for me when I went to the hospital to check on Greg."

"He told me his scars were from the lab exploding, but he never said it was your fault."

"Well…Greg's not the type to hold a grudge." Catherine checked her watch to make sure they had enough time to broach the next subject on her mental list. "Greg is also the type to go into debt to keep the girl who loves him happy. Have you guys talked finances yet? Who is paying for what?"

"Not really. He just told me to get as many hours as possible and he'd max out his overtime." Her smile returned. "He refuses to let me take a job cocktailing or working at a casino because he doesn't want men leering at me. See…he _loves_ me. He's romantic too! When I was in bed this morning, he brought me a Snickers bar and we shared it. "

"Wow…he's a real Romeo," Catherine chuckled. "So…Juliet…how much is the monthly maintenance bill for your physical upkeep? List out your expenses for me, because _Tawny Incorporated_ is going not-for-profit, so you may not be able to afford everything you did in the past."

"Okay." She turned her eyes to the ceiling as she recalled them. "Tanning, waxing, manicures, pedicures, hair color, teeth whitener, cosmetics, lotions, massages and my gym membership."

"Yeah…you may need to cut back on some of that."

Whimsically she replied, "As long as I have Greg, I don't need anything else."

Catherine burst out laughing. "You say that _now, _but when your eyebrows fuse together and your roots start to show, you may change your mind."

"Hey! I'm a natural blonde…just not this blonde that naturally."

"You shouldn't color your hair when you're preggers anyway. And you can't tan anymore, so there's two off the top." Snickering she said, "Greg can take over the massaging and, if you're active enough in the bedroom, you won't need the gym membership. Oh…and if he doesn't already know how, teach him how to paint your toes because you'll need someone to do it for you once you belly grows."

"Hmm…I can buy cheaper cosmetics and stuff. The waxing though…"

"What's your style?"

"Brazilian."

"Ouch!" She shuddered remembering her one and only Brazilian wax. "I wouldn't worry about giving that up, I'm sure Greggy will be more than happy to foot that bill!" The melody of her cell phone grabbed Catherine's attention. "Sorry."

"I should start walking over to work anyway." Tawny stood up. "Thanks so much for this, Catherine."

"We'll do it again in a couple of weeks, okay?" Flipping open her phone, she noted the ID and answered, "Hang on a sec, Nicky."

"Great!" Tawny grabbed her empty cup. "See ya."

"Bye, Honey." Catherine waved before putting the phone to her ear. "Sorry, I was wrapping up a coffee date with Greg's girlfriend."

"The same stripper? Or has he moved on to one with even bigger boobs?"

"No, he's still seeing Tawny." Catherine grinned. "I'll bet you a hundred bucks Greg proposes to her by the end of the year."

"Done!" He laughed. "Mama Sanders wouldn't approve, and we all know Greg is a Mama's boy."

"Look who's talking!" She groaned as she strolled out of the café. "You do realize you're marrying your mother's clone, right?"

"So you really think Sander's is serious about this stripper?"

"Hey, Mama's Boy, am I not supposed to notice you changing the subject?" She stopped to gaze in a jewelry shop window. "Yes, it's serious."

"Then I need to educate him on the difference between love and lust." Nick groaned, "_Of course_ he wants to marry her, she's the first girl with a D-cup he's ever boinked! All guys fall for their first D-cup but that doesn't mean you take them home to mama."

"Yeah well…her D-cups are going to turn into a milk factory in less than nine months so...Ooops." The glitz of the diamonds in the window had distracted her. "He should have been the one to tell you that."

"No way!"

"Yep!" She moved on to the next store window.

"Greggo is going to be a daddy-o?"

"Before you or Grissom," She informed him.

"Shit…I just lost a hundred bucks!"

"Sucker." She cackled. "Now, did you just miss my sexy voice or is there a reason you called?"

"Yes! What the hell is going on with Sara and Grissom?"

"What do you mean?" His question perked her curiosity.

"Brass calls me first thing this morning and tells me Sara spontaneously decided to fly off to a conference and leave me high and dry for shift."

"Sara? Irresponsible? _Sara Sidle Grissom_?" Catherine leaned against the wall. "That's so not like her."

"I know! Plus…she _knew _Trey had the week off already. She has two active case files and left no instructions. And she told Jas she'd have lunch with her today to discuss Jas's questions on the Master's Forensics program at UNLV. Brass won't tell me where she is and she's not answering her cell. Tell me…doesn't this sound odd to you?"

"Hey! I just remembered that Sara and I have one of our Community College presentations on Wednesday. She wouldn't bail on me without letting me know."

"See! And another really weird thing…when I mentioned it to Grissom this morning, it was like he was surprised too. Right after I told him, he bolted out of his office."

"Huh?" Catherine pondered the information.

"Now Grissom isn't answering his pager or cell either which isn't like him. He always tells us when he won't be available. I need him to give me Sara's location because the DA is breathing down my neck over one of her cases and I can't answer the question. What gives? Do you think they're having a problem? How could they be after the cave-in drama? They were so blissed out!"

"Now you have me really concerned." Grabbing her keys, Catherine headed for the mall's exit. "I'll try calling Grissom on his cell and at home. If he doesn't answer, I'll drive over to the house and check things out."

"Thanks. Let me know."

"Okay." She knew Sara didn't want to be more than ten minutes away from Grissom since the accident, especially not during prime baby-making season. Closing her phone, Catherine huffed, "This can't be good."

**North Lake Tahoe  
****11:45 a.m. **

Sitting on the porch swing of her rental cabin, Sara uncapped her pen and readied her thoughts. First she considered the proper salutation.

Hey asshole! No…too much anger and that would defeat the purpose. Remember what Dr. Myers instructed regarding this exercise…the point is to bring closure.

After thinking for another ten minutes, Sara decided to skip the proper salutation and just go with her thoughts.

_Hi there, Mike, it's me, Sara - the girl you picked to abuse. I know you picked me because I was an easy mark but, that doesn't make me responsible for your disgusting behavior. I realize now I didn't do anything wrong. It was all you and I can't change who you are, I can only change who I am. Therefore I'm letting go of the anger I have inside of me over the incident and at you. Why waste my time thinking about something out of my control, right? I'm here in Tahoe without you and I'm free. Who has the power now? Sara – the girl who isn't going to take crap from anyone ever again. _

Smiling, she left the swing to return inside her cabin. Once inside, she walked confidently to the roaring fire she had made upon returning from the store and flipped the card to Mike Rodgers into the flames. The smell of closure filled her nose. "One down," She announced to herself. "Time to buy some more postcards."


	9. Chapter 9

"**Second Chances – Part 9"**

**The Grissoms'  
****12:35 p.m.**

After not reaching Grissom via phone or page, Catherine decided to drive from the Forum Shops to his house. Her curiosity piqued and her concern mounting, she hoped she was just jumping to incorrect conclusions.

Recalling that Nick said it was Brass who informed him of Sara's sudden disappearance, Catherine flipped open her phone and punched in his code.

"Brass."

"Hey, Jim, it's Cath," She greeted as she pulled out of the parking garage. "Nick called me. He said you told him Sara left town for the week for a seminar and she can't be contacted."

"That's right."

The short answer and the tone of his voice raised her suspicion. "Sara has a lecture commitment with me this week and she wouldn't bail without telling me. She also wouldn't leave open cases and not be in contact. Also, Nick and I can't get Grissom on the phone. What's going on, Jim?"

"What do you mean?"

"Stop being evasive!" She ordered before softening her tone, "I'm worried."

"Look…between you and me…I don't know the details. All I know is that Sara needed to get away quick. I volunteered to do the explaining…that's why I called Nick."

"Get away quick?" Catherine focused her eyes on the road while her mind raced. "Why?"

"You got me," He huffed through the phone. "Something happened. Sara said Gil doesn't want to be anywhere near her and that was okay with her because he motivated her to stay as far away from him as possible. When I spoke with Gil this morning he wasn't aware that she had skipped town. He didn't take it well. Shocking! The only detail I got out of him was that whatever he did, it's worse than what he did to her in Tahoe."

"_Worse _than Tahoe? Good god!" Catherine cringed as she accelerated through a yellow traffic light. "I don't get how something that bad could have happened so fast. They were blissed out when I saw them last. She was thrilled he didn't die in the building collapse and he couldn't get enough of her. What the hell?"

"I know what you mean. I spoke with him on Saturday and life was great but by Sunday evening it was FUBAR and they both seemed guilty and hurt at the same time. What do you make of that?"

"You know…we forget they're still new at being in a relationship." Rationalizing made her breathe easier. "It's probably nothing you or I would flinch at but for them…it's end of the world stuff. In people years they may be forty-eight and thirty-four but in relationship years they're both sixteen and desperate to hold onto their first love."

"Ahhh teen angst…I remember it well. Donna Pentisano ripped my heart out of my chest and gave it to her German Sheppard to use as a play toy."

"Still hurts, huh?"

"Only when I see a German Sheppard bearing it's fangs."

"Speaking of bearing fangs…" Sighing, she pulled up to a red light and said, "Did you know they never argue? They've been together for almost a year and he told me they've argued _twice._ They're always walking on eggshells because they're both so afraid they'll ruin things. I warned him that would lead to an explosion one day. I bet something stupid happened, it set them both off and BAM they both say things to hurt the other and now they think it has to be over because it's not perfect anymore."

"But it's so unlike them to be anal about stuff," He deadpanned.

"Right." She groaned while driving into the main entrance of Grissom's neighborhood. "Why didn't you call me when you knew this was going on?"

"It wasn't my place. If he wanted to tell you…"

"Oh sure." She rolled her eyes as she turned the wheel. "Mr. Communicatively Dysfunctional is just gonna pick up the phone and call me to talk about his world falling apart."

"He's a big boy, Catherine and you're not his mother. Whatever is going on…it's between him and his wife. I will comment that if he had handled things more expeditiously then his wife wouldn't have made it out of town without him knowing."

Irritated by the reply, she snapped, "It surprises me that you're not concerned about a prolonged separation affecting _the lab._"

"Are you accusing me of playing favorites?"

"No…" She parked her car in front of Grissom's. "I'm pointing out that you're not focusing on the whole picture."

"Fine." Brass snipped, "When I see him I'll be sure to ask how he's doing and I'll be sure to let you know."

"Fine." She turned off the car. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've have to check in with my kid."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****12:42 p.m. **

Sitting at the kitchen table in her rental cabin, Sara was readying to write her next postcard when the phone rang. In a knee-jerk reaction she raced toward it but without any caller ID system attached to the cheap phone, she had no way of knowing who was calling.

Uncertainty fluttered her stomach and she let another ring go by.

"It's just Brass, she assured herself as she reached for the receiver." Then she pulled her hand away stating, "But what if it's not?"

Another ring sounded.

"What if it's Gil?" Her fingers curled around the receiver as she let another ring come and go.

"Ugh! The lack of technology in this cabin sucks!" She shrieked as she debated if it could be her husband and if she was ready to speak with him.

Finally, she relented and picked up the cordless. "Hello," She answered with a forced confidence.

"Were you outside skipping stones across the lake?" Brass asked. "Or is there no caller ID there and you were doing the 'could it be him' dance while you stared at the phone?"

"We need a ring code," She replied in a light laugh. "Call, ring twice, hang up then call back."

"But you answered it even though it could have been him, what does that tell me? Hmm…"

Leaning against the wall, she lowered her head and her voice. "Does he know I'm gone yet?"

"Yes, he does."

Lifting her head, she took a deep breath and in a raw voice, asked her burning question. "Does he care?"

"Yes, he does."

Her eyes closed as she filled her lungs with hope and air.

When she didn't respond, his trademark chuckle floated through the phone. "You're dying to know what he said, but you're too proud to ask."

"No, it has nothing to do with pride," She quietly replied, "I'm afraid if I hear it I'll want to rush back to Vegas when I need to stay here and get my head together. Actually…I know if I hear it I'll rush back to Vegas instead of staying here and getting my head together."

"Ah."

Sighing, she admitted, "There's this pattern you see…I back away, he thinks he's losing me, he says something sweet, I smile and forget why I was ever disappointed in him. I'm trying to break that pattern. I'm hoping if he has a little time he'll figure out a way to break some patterns too." A smile crept up on her. "Hopefully he'll figure it out faster than his average turnaround time, because I only have this place for a week."

"I agree with your strategy and don't worry about him taking as long as it did before. Before you were always within arms reach so he didn't have to think. Now that you're away, I believe he'll be motivated to think faster."

"Let's hope you're right," She nervously replied. "But if you talk to him…tell him…" While chewing her bottom lip, she sorted through the hundreds of things she wanted to say. "Tell him I was happy to hear he cared. And when you talk to him…find out if he's really doing okay because if he needs me to…"

"Sara…"

"Right." She nodded. "Just tell him I was happy to hear he cared."

**The Grissoms'  
****12:45 p.m.**

Three rings of the doorbell and no answer later, Catherine decided to give a forceful knock. "If you're in there hiding because you think I'll find out what's going on it's too late, I already know!"

When there was still no response, she stuffed her hands on her hips. "Maybe he flew the coop too."

As she turned to leave, her gut told her to stop. Something didn't feel right. It was a sixth sense she trusted many times in the field and one that usually didn't mislead, but she knew it wasn't foolproof. "Dammit!" She cursed, knowing sometimes, when her emotions were involved, her gut was unreliable.

Pacing out front, she asked herself, what did Grissom tell me when we broke into Sara's apartment to steal her credit card number so we could track her down in Tahoe?" _Breaking and entering was a necessary short cut_. "So if he could justify breaking and entering for a good cause, I can trespass and peek without feeling guilty."

With her conscience appeased, she hurried around to the side of the house and popped open the gate to the backyard. After a quick trek through the professionally landscaped yard, she cautiously approached the glass French doors which led directly into the massive living room/kitchen area of the house.

Shielding the midday sun with her hand, she brought her face to the door, and when she scanned the room at eye level, she rapidly determined no one was moving about the room and nothing looked out of place.

As she would when investigating any scene, she made a second sweep of the room, this time lowering her gaze to the floor.

While her mind processed the room, her internal alarm sounded and in a matter of seconds her pulse was pounding. Broken glass…blood spatter on the floor…blood smears on the cabinet…thrown food…scattered pictures. "Oh my god." Without hesitation, she grasped the handle and when it didn't give, she kicked open the door. "Gil!"

After a quick check behind the kitchen island she hurried down the hall toward the offices shouting, "Gil!" On her way toward the bedroom she stepped on Grissom's car keys and knew for the first time he had to be home. "Gil what the hell is going on? Answer me! I'm really freaked out here!"

With her heart rate soaring she raced into the bedroom. Just five steps inside, two things struck her …the open dresser drawers and the overpowering stench of vomit. Her fingers tore through her hair as she nervously said, "Gil? It's Catherine." She assumed he was getting sick in the bathroom. "I'm sorry for barging in but from the looks of things you could use a friend."

When the only response she got was silence, she proceeded to the bathroom. "Gil?" Her sixth sense went into overdrive as she pushed open the half-cracked door leading to the bathroom suite. "Since you're not answering I'm coming in. Just in case you need…"

Her eyes snapped open as the shock of the discovery hit her full force. "Oh my god!" She shrieked while her mind struggled to make sense of the horrifying scene. Grissom unresponsive on the floor…his blood drenched wrist and arm…empty pill bottles…a pool of vomit…a written note at his side.

"No! What did you do?" While grabbing her cell phone with one hand, she vigorously shook Grissom with the other. "Wake up! Wake up!" For a second she stopped to punch in the critical three numbers and then she returned to rousing him. "What did you do!" She rammed two fingers into Grissom's neck to check for a pulse. "Wake up!"

"911. What's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance." Catherine panted into the phone while she tried to keep track of the number of pulse beats.

"Okay. What is your location?"

"Um…" In her panic, the address wouldn't surface. "Um…um…dammit!" Reaching for his hand, she tried to assess where the blood was from. "Isn't the address popping up on your display?"

"No, because you're calling from a cell phone. Are you in a house?"

Unwrapping the dish towel from around Grissom's hand, she stammered, "Yes…yes."

"Listen…I need you to calm down, take the phone with you and go to the front of the house to find the address. I have dispatch on the line. As soon as you give me the address we'll send the ambulance."

"I'll run and get it." Halfway out of the room, it hit her and she yelled it into the phone. "2214 Quail Run Road! Hurry okay because he's not responding!"

"I want you stay on the line. Ambulance is on its way. You said he's not responding?"

"No!" She frantically replied while rushing back to the bathroom. "I tried to rouse him…"

"Can you check to see if he's breathing for me?"

**Shoreline Cabins**

**12:59 p.m. **

Breathing out, Sara reached for the phone while continuing her silent conversation with herself. I'm not going home. I'm just calling. I'm calling to say that if he's willing to acknowledge his issues and get help then I'm willing to give things a chance. Just one more chance…

"_Just give me one more chance, Laura," Sara heard her father say as he presented her mom with a beautiful bouquet of fresh cut flowers. Sitting at the kitchen table, she kept her nose firmly planted in her math book while the discussion continued. After all, there wasn't much of a reason to pay attention since she had heard the same conversation many times before. _

"_That's what you said last time," Laura sadly replied while accepting the peace offering. "When you asked for another chance last time I said yes, but only if you would get help." _

"_I will this time!" He promised through a smile. "Come on…you believe me don't you? Hey…how about we take a drive on Saturday? We can go to that seafood place you like? I'll leave you some cash and you can buy something special to wear. You know how much I love taking my beautiful wife out on the town. What do you say?" _

_While pretending to do her math homework, Sara waited to see if her mother would for once decline the offer. _

"_That sounds great," Laura replied with a smile. _

_Sara watched her father kiss her mother's bruised cheek before leaving the house to return to work. "Mom," She asked in a confused eight year old's voice. "Why do you always say yes when he asks for another chance? Doesn't it hurt to get hit so much?" _

_Sighing, Laura Sidle placed the flowers in the usual vase. "Not as much as it hurts to be alone." _

"_Oh." _

"_You just worry about your studies, Sweetie, not me," Laura informed her daughter while opening the freezer and retrieving a chilled bottle of Vodka. "Mommy's pain will go away as soon as she takes her medicine."_

The dial tone changing to the harsh operator's voice…**if you would like to make a call, please hang up and dial again, if you need help, hang up and dial your operator**…snapped Sara out of the painful memory and a moment later she clicked off the phone and returned it to its cradle.

"I don't trust myself," She whispered before recalling her words to Jim. _There's this pattern you see…I back away, he thinks he's losing me, he says something sweet, I smile and forget why I was ever disappointed in him. I'm trying to break that pattern. I'm hoping if he has a little time he'll figure out a way to break some patterns too. _

Tapping her pen on the kitchen table she thought through the issue. I learned my behavior to give in from my mother. He learned his behavior to judge and snap upon feeling betrayed from his mother. We both have issues. We both need to work on them. We both need time.

**Sunrise Medical Center  
****Las Vegas  
****1:40 p.m. **

Time stood still while Catherine paced the ER waiting area for word on Grissom's condition. It was impossible to imagine surviving the Harper House collapse last week only to lose him like this.

"Ms. Willows?" Dr. Lynn Barker approached with an empathetic smile.

Catherine braced herself for the news.

"He's going to be fine," The doctor assured her. "The CT and EKG were fine…no signs of heart attack or stroke. Just an out of control migraine."

"You're sure?" She sniffled while trying to believe the doctor. "Because I've seen him with a migraine before and it was nothing compared to this…this was really frightening."

"Most likely that was a mild or moderate migraine you observed." The doctor sat down and motioned for Catherine to take a seat next to her. "A severe migraine can present like a stroke…the person can lose their vision, have weak limbs or speech and be generally unresponsive. Because of his presenting symptoms and the information you provided on his heart risk, we triaged him as urgent. Better to be safe than sorry. I know it can be unnerving to the loved ones."

"I'll say!" Catherine admitted while smoothing back her mussed hair. "It really freaked me out."

"It's understandably scary but not at all life threatening." The doctor calmly continued to relay the details. "When Mr. Grissom was able to speak to us, he told us that he had been suffering from moderate migraine pain for the last twenty-four hours. He said he had been keeping it under control with his Imitrex prescription medication…the empty pill bottle you presented to the EMTs was for Imitrex. When he ran out of medication his pain rapidly escalated to an extreme causing the acute stroke-like symptoms and the vomiting. The last thing he remembers is being in the bathroom searching the medicine cabinet for more Imitrex."

"That's where I found him." Catherine was finally able to relax in her chair. "Lying on the floor with the blood…"

"Six stitches to the palm. He'll have a scar but the hand is fine." The doctor checked her watch and stood. "If you follow me back you can probably catch him before he passes out from the migraine cocktail we gave him."

Catherine stayed on the doctor's heels. "Migraine cocktail?"

"Imitrex for the migraine, Toradol as an anti-inflammatory, Demerol to knock him out, and Compazine to stop the nausea." Hitting the release button to open the ER doors, Doctor Baker said, "He'll be out for three to four hours. His blood work showed signs of dehydration and low blood sugar so he's getting fluids too. But don't worry, that's typical if he wasn't eating or drinking because of the migraine pain…and the 100 plus temperature outside doesn't help."

"Right." Catherine felt better with each reassuring word.

"He's in here." The doctor pointed to one of the private ER rooms. "Don't turn on the lights or the TV and you'll want to keep your voice down."

"Thank you, Doctor." Catherine nodded.

Walking away the doctor said, "If you have any concerns, see one of the nurses and they can always page me if necessary."

"Okay." With her palm on the door, Catherine paused to take a few cleansing breaths so she didn't appear as stressed as she felt.

"Are you going in?" Nurse Ramirez asked. The young woman extended a blanket. "Just out of the warmer." As she handed it over, she smiled. "Not that he'll need the help sleeping after what we gave him."

With the hot blanket in hand, Catherine entered the darkened room. Following the doctor's instructions, she moved quietly to the bed and whispered, "Hey there…it's Catherine." She watched his heavy lids slowly open. "Are you trying to make a habit of ending up in the hospital with me every week?"

Fighting the fog overtaking him, Grissom groggily said, "Thanks…for getting me here."

Unfurling the blanket, she told him, "Well…you know my ego, I saved you from Syd Goggle and then last week you had to go and make things even by saving me in that basement." Gently covering him, she smiled. "So what choice did you leave me but to save your ass again?"

"I..." His eyes battled to stay open. "I messed things up with…"

"Shh…you need to take a nap now." With care, she tucked the blanket around him. "While you're sleeping off your cocktail, I'm going to step out and handle some business but I'll be here when you wake up. We'll talk about it then. Okay?"

"O…"

"Yeah…there you go, get some rest." Catherine sighed as she watched him pass out cold. "You _really_ had me going back at the house." Her eyes welling, she looked to the ceiling. "Don't ever scare me like that again. Because even though you need me ninety-five percent of the time, there's that five percent when I need you…like when I'm ready to run up the stairs of a collapsing building and you grab my arm…or when I'm hysterical from being trapped at the bottom of a building thinking I'll never see my daughter again and you make fun of yourself to distract me…or when I need someone to call me on being a controlling shrew and you step to the plate."

Returning her gaze to the sleeping patient, she whispered, "There…now I don't have to worry about telling you that later." With a couple of stealthy swipes, she brushed her tears away. "Because later, when you're awake…I have a feeling I'll want to kick your ass for doing or saying whatever the hell it is you did or said to incite your devoted wife to leave you, you big jerk."

Tugging the blanket a little higher, she groaned, "Oh great…Brass was right…I am mothering you. Well then I guess you can blame your problems with Sara on me, because you know what they say whenever a kid is a mental misfit…it's the mother's fault. But do they ever give us credit for all the good stuff we do? Noooo."

**Albertson's Grocery Store  
****2:02 p.m. **

Greg was tossing another two boxes of tissues in his shopping cart when his cell phone rang.

One look at the ID displayed and he shook his head. "I knew it." Sighing, he clicked the 'talk' button. "Hi, mom."

"I've been thinking."

"I had a feeling you were." He chuckled as he pushed the cart down the aisle.

"After we hung up, it dawned on me that I haven't been out to visit you in a while."

Knowing he didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell, he replied, "It's August in Vegas, no one leaves the beach to come here and melt. Besides, you're going to see me in a few weeks when I come out for Labor Day weekend."

"Will you be bringing Tawny when you visit?"

Grinning, he plucked a twelve-pack of toilet paper from the shelf. "Is she invited?"

"No, Greg." Her sarcasm dripped through the phone. "The girl is co-habitating with my only child and gestating my future grandbaby but I have absolutely no interest in meeting her."

"That's what I thought," He snickered while strolling to the next aisle. "_Of course_ I was planning on bringing her! After going to the picnic at the Country Club without a date for years, I'm ready to show up with a gorgeous girl on my arm."

"You got your shallowness from your father."

"That's not the _only_ reason I'm bringing her." Grabbing a bag of tortilla chips, he added, "I'm bringing her so she can meet you…the other important woman in my life."

"You got your intelligence from me," She chuckled. "As well as your good looks, sense of humor…"

**Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes' Office  
****2:15 p.m. **

"Very funny, Catherine," Nick grumbled. "I call you earlier telling you that I'm drowning from being two people short and now you want me to cover graveyard for you?"

"Nicky, I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate. Between you and me okay?"

Sighing, he reclined in his chair. "Go ahead."

"I'm outside Sunrise Medical Center. Grissom is in the ER…"

"What?" He bolted up in his chair. "Why?"

"Severe migraine."

Breathing out he told her, "I thought you were going to tell me Sara tried to kill him and you found him half dead when you went to the house. You know…wife suddenly leaves town, husband doesn't answer the phone…"

"That's the job talking, Nick. And you should know better than to jump to conclusions."

He shook off his inadequacy. "Yeah…you'd never do that."

"Here's the other piece of the puzzle…you were right about Grissom and Sara having a blow out. Now, Brass is the only one who knows where Sara is and I'm the only one who knows where Grissom is…well now you do too. The thing is…I don't want Brass to know about Grissom being in the hospital. If he knows then he might tell Sara and then she'll come back before she should come back and the romantically challenged fools will make up without making any progress. Then Brass will hold this against Grissom like he still holds Tahoe against him. So when you cover tonight, if asked, just say that Grissom needed the night off and leave it at that."

Nick ran his hand over his shaven head. "This is getting a little complicated for me."

"Then just do what I'm telling you and don't think." She chuckled, "Just be a guy, Nicky."

**The Cheesecake Factory  
****3:30 pm. **

"So who is this guy you're crazy about, Tawny?" Tiffany asked after swallowing a bite of the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Cheesecake she was sharing with Paula and Diamond, her co-workers at Club Paradise.

Taking a break for a second, Tawny slid into the booth to join her friends whom she knew from her dancing gig prior to Tweeter's, "Who told you I had a special guy in my life?"

"We were drinking at Aldo's on Saturday night and bumped into Aisha. She was just coming off her shift at Tweeter's. She told us you up and quit last week saying that your boyfriend didn't want you dancing anymore."

"Yeah." Tawny gushed, "He's a great guy…I'm head over heels in love! He really loves me too…it's the real deal! Just like Pretty Woman, he rescued me from my old life! But just like in the movie…I rescued him right back! See, he has this really tough job with the Police Department so he needs someone to be there for him after a hard day. Isn't it all totally romantic!"

"Yeah…" Licking whipped cream off her index finger, Diamond grumped, "We heard he knocked you up during a booty call. Aisha told us that Amber said she heard you asking Tina about paternity testing because you really needed to prove it was this nice guy's baby because he was concerned he wasn't the only booty caller in your life."

"Oh." Busted, Tawny flashed a nervous smile. "Well that part is true too. Not the part about having _other _booty callers! You know me…I only date one guy at a time."

Paula burst out laughing. "You mean screw don't you?"

"Hey now," Diamond shot her pal a look. "You know Miss Kansas has always played it straight. She don't even like doing girl on girl action at the club."

"Thanks, Diamond," Tawny quietly replied.

"Okay, okay I'm sorry. So you reeled in a good one." Paula grinned. "And now Lover Boy doesn't want his baby's mama shaking her ass for cash so he offers to take you in. You're right…that is real sweet."

"He really is a nice guy," Tawny informed the skeptics. "He's in law enforcement and he's really smart and…"

"Is he going to marry you?" Tiffany inquired while dipping her fork in the cheesecake slice.

"We haven't talked about it." Tawny continued to smile as she lied, "Besides…I'm uh…not really hung up on that traditional stuff anyway."

Diamond glared at Tiffany. "Now why did you have to go and get the girl's hopes up? You know he ain't gonna talk marriage until the baby is born and she proves it's his. Sure, he's a nice guy, but he ain't stupid! He's doing the right thing now just in case it works out and he's the baby's daddy, but if she were to lose that baby tomorrow you know he'd kick her to the curb. So watch what you say or you'll make her feel bad."

The words tore holes in Tawny's confidence and, in silence, she listened to her friends debate her life while they picked at the cheesecake like blood thirsty vultures.

"You don't know that he'd kick her to the curb if she lost the baby," Paula chided. "You haven't met the guy. Maybe he does really have a thing for her."

"You've been watching too many damn movies girl." Diamond rolled her eyes.

Tiffany choked down her bite and said, "Ha! She was just telling me that she watched Moulin Rouge again yesterday for like the hundredth time! What is with these movies about hookers being rescued that gets you girls going? Do me a favor, take a stroll down Fremont tonight and ask the skanky honeys how often that really happens?"

Paula elbowed Tawny. "Don't listen to her, you know she's just jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm a realist," Tiffany scoffed. "When this guy takes her home to meet his mama and slaps a diamond on her finger_ then_ I'll believe in fairy tales. Paula, you should know from watching Moulin Rouge that _diamonds_ are a girl's best friend not promises from a guy."

Diamond shook her head, "Tawny, alls we're saying is guard that baby 'cause its your all-access pass to Mr. Wonderful. Don't go riding any horses, walking down spiral staircases in heels or doing any risky shit. You get my drift, girlfriend?"

Paula hissed, "At least I watch _movies._ That's soap opera garbage you're talking!"

Sliding out of the booth, Tawny announced, "I uh…I need to get back to the kitchen. Nice seein' ya. Bye guys."

Tiffany winked, "Be careful you don't slip on a banana peel back there, Honey."

Diamond stabbed her boothmate's arm with a fork. "I stuck a fork in you and look, you're done! Leave the princess alone already!"

As she hurried away, Tawny heard them laughing. "With friends like that who needs enemies?" She muttered under her breath. When she reached the back door of the restaurant, she threw it open and stepped out into the heat of the day. Real friends don't torture you when you're vulnerable! She screamed in her head. They shouldn't rub in the fact that your perfect life could be over before you even had a chance to enjoy it! They should want to help not knock you down! Leaning against the wall, she huffed, "I need new friends to go with my new life."

**Sunrise Medical Center  
****Las Vegas  
****6:35 p.m. **

Nurse Ramirez gently tapped Catherine, who was asleep in a chair in Grissom's hospital room. "I hate to wake you but your friend is feeling better and we're going to kick him out in about thirty minutes."

"Oh." Catherine rubbed her eyes. "Sorry…I'm used to sleeping in the afternoon."

On her way to the door, the nurse announced, "I'll be back with discharge paperwork later."

Catherine glanced over at Grissom who was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. "You look a hell of a lot better than when I scooped your ass off the bathroom floor."

Without looking at her, he somberly replied, "Thank you again for getting me here. Like the nurse said, I'm feeling better so there's no reason for you to stay. I'm sure Lindsay needs…"

"Nice try." When she stood, she stretched her arms and broke the news. "My daughter is at sleep-away softball camp all this week and Warrick is out with some friends until shift, so…I'm free to devote my time to a charitable cause." Plopping on the edge of the hospital bed, she grinned. "Know any good charity cases? Or, if I can't help one of those, maybe there's a basket case I can assist?"

"This…is really." Humiliated and embarrassed, Grissom glanced away. "I'm…"

"Hey!" Catherine reached over and turned his head. Looking him straight in the eyes she said, "Let's just stop the bullshit, shall we? There's no point in trying to salvage your dignity in front of me because it's impossible. I found you lying in a puddle of your own vomit. Vomit you spewed because of a severe migraine. A migraine induced by the nervous breakdown you had after you realized you screwed up your marriage **_and,_** since I'm inclined to believe you screwed it up by having a hissy fit and tossing a bunch of _pastries_, I think it's safe to say you really can't look any worse to me." She continued to stare down her obstinate friend. "So let's be real…I know you're pathetic, but I still want to be your friend and help your ass out of this mess and you need the help, pal."

"I appreciate your doing this for me but…"

"Oh, no! Don't think for minute this is all about you! Because it's not." Flipping her hair off her shoulders, she informed him, "It's about **_me_**."

Still foggy from the drugs, he asked, "How is this about you?"

"I'm the one who got you to lift your head up from the microscope, so I'll be damned if I'm going to let you get this far and fail!" Chuckling, he said, "How would I look if my little project ended up tanking? Like a loser that's how! And I don't like losing. Brass has Sara and I got stuck with you. That's fine…I prefer a challenge."

Gaping at his long-time friend, Grissom groaned, "The two of you have turned the salvation of my marriage into a contest?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't know it."

After staring at each other for a minute, Catherine gently prodded, "Why don't you tell me what happened? I mean, I've reviewed the evidence at the house and I can make a professional guess, but it's always simpler if the witness tells the story, right?" In a bold move that she knew would toss him out of his comfort zone, she took his hand in hers and said, "You know you can trust me."

While searching her eyes, he heard his mother's voice. _Every time you give someone your trust they hurt you. People are all the same. I learned that the hard way. You don't need people to validate you. You're like me…you're fine on your own. You're safe on your own. Do you understand? Trust no one._

"Come on…give it up," Catherine needled. "Chances are you are being _**way** _harder on yourself than I will be on you. Besides…I think you owe me a blank for lifting you out of a pool of vomit, don't you?"

In a distant voice, he said, "I always make people earn information about me…even Sara."

Happy he was at least talking about an issue, albeit not the one she wanted, she eagerly replied, "You want to share, but you don't know how. The little hoops you make people jump…the _earning _of information as you put it, like the blank game we play…it allows you to share without feeling the total vulnerability of giving something away. If the information comes back to bite you in the ass, you didn't give easily to the person doing the hurting so you're not stupid and your pride isn't damaged."

"I never thought of it that way."

"Shocking!" She squeezed his hand. "Why the hell do you think I'm not going to let you sit around alone thinking this through! You'll have yourself one step below Jack the Ripper before midnight. You're not a horrible guy, Gil, you're just dysfunctional and you made **_one_** serious error in judgment! I warned you not to keep your emotions bottled up inside for so long. I told you it was a guaranteed way to explode one day. Did you listen? Noooo!"

"But you don't understand…losing it in front of Sara…she has a history with…"

"Domestic Abuse? Duh! I know that."

"She told you?"

"How stupid do you think I am? Really?" Catherine shook her head. "The girl goes off on _every _domestic abuse case we handle for five years, she's socially introverted, she fears betrayal by men, she pathetically waits around for you…the older, stable man who can give her the love and security she craves, and I'm not supposed to put two and two together? Hello! I profile for a living you know. "

"I scared her," He reluctantly confessed. "I scared myself. I never, _never _would have touched her, but she thinks I wanted to and she thinks I could in the future. I had forty years of anger about something locked away and when it blew she was there and I blamed her for making it come out of me when I didn't want to let it out. I would have taken it to the grave if it hadn't been forced on me."

"Forty years?" She tilted her head. "A childhood trauma?" She considered Grissom's fear of intimacy. "Were you abused in some way as a child? Were you…"

"No." Breathing in, he fought to overcome his fear of trust.

"You know I'll keep guessing," She groaned as she patted his hand. "Show me you've learned one lesson already. Don't bottle it in there. Let it out."

Losing the standoff, he said, "My father left when I was nine and didn't look back. Yesterday, out of the blue he showed up at the door when I was at work and Sara let him in. She let him in knowing I considered him dead and never wanted to see him. Now I know she let him in because she wanted health-related information from him that she felt was important for me to know."

"So, she was trying to help you by letting your dad in, but she was doing it on the sly."

"Yes." After a hard swallow he continued, "I came home and she tried to get me in the bedroom so I wouldn't find him. I got suspicious…I thought she was hiding a different kind of guy…I thought she was cheating on me. Instead of a lover I found out she was hiding my father."

"Wow." Catherine's eyes widened. "Just for the record, if my mom showed up and suddenly wanted to be my new best friend, I think the SWAT team would be clearing the block while I raged at her."

"I didn't handle it well either."

Trying to inject a little levity, she asked, "Did you tell him if you wanted to kill him you knew a dozen ways to hide a body? Because I loved throwing that one out when some of the losers I dated got pissy with me. Not that I'm endorsing it…I'm just saying it just slips out."

"I did manage to work that in, yes." He sadly admitted, "I said it to my father when he was bad mouthing my mother. But I said it in front of Sara…right before I turned on her…before the shameless pastry throwing and glass launching…before I had her backing up against a wall so I could scream at her and tell her I didn't want to be anywhere near her." The truth confessed, he closed his eyes. "So now…considering her past, you can see why I'm certain she doesn't need me in her life. I'm a terrible husband for her…for any woman."

"Hey." Leaning closer, she whispered, "You think I don't know what it feels like to do something so awful you don't think you can ever recover and stay in a relationship? Guess again. There was a time in my life when I was snorting coke and screwing around with any old sleazebag I picked up at a bar while my baby girl slept in the next room. I wasn't being a horrific mother then, but when I realized it, I didn't walk away and leave my kid. I did what was best for her. I picked myself up, got help, cleaned up my act and gave the relationship another shot. If you've noticed I'm still not perfect at it, but neither Lindsay nor I have given up yet."

"I didn't know it was that bad."

"It was," She assured him. "But having Lindsay move in with Eddie the loser or going to some foster home wouldn't have been good solutions. The best solution was for her mom to get her shit together and give her the love and security she needed. I don't believe for a minute that abandoning Sara is the best thing you can do for her. I think she would be _much _better off if you could work on yourself and give her what she needs. The two of you belong together. I know she still loves you. You're her lobster."

Grissom narrowed his gaze. "Her lobster?"

Catherine cracked up at his predictable puzzlement. "It's from this show that was on for years, called Friends. It was… think of it this way…it would be like if Greg, Nick, Warrick, Brass, Sara, you and me had our own TV show and we spent a lot of the time sitting around drinking coffee, cracking jokes about each other and lamenting about our screwed up personal lives. After a while, some of us hook up with each other and…come to think of it that does sound like us. Hey! Maybe we could have our own TV show…a thirty minute sitcom showing the warped humorous side of CSIs."

"Let me guess…you'd be the star?"

"Well it sure as hell ain't gonna be Sofia! I can guarantee you that!" Releasing some more tension with humor, she said, "I'd pay the writers to pen her out of the show in the first episode!"

"Okay, enough wishful thinking. Get back to the lobster explanation."

"Right. Okay." She chuckled. "One of the friends, Phoebe, a real ditz but hilarious, is talking to another friend, Ross, the intellectual misfit, who has been pining over one of the girls in the group, Rachel, for _years_…sound familiar?"

"Vaguely." He smiled for the first time in days.

"When Ross, the romantic illiterate, whines for the millionth time that it will never work out between him and Rachel, Phoebe tells him with full confidence that it will be because Rachel is his _lobster._ Ross looked at Phoebe like you looked at me when I told you just now that you're Sara's lobster…_confused_. Hey, another funny thing…this guy, Ross, he's an emotionally stunted _Paleontologist_ which is so close to being an emotionally stunted _Entomologist._"

"Un-confuse me about the lobster thing."

Releasing Grissom's hand, she animatedly recounted the rest of the details. "Phoebe explains it's a known fact that lobsters fall in love and mate for life. She tells Ross that if you look closely, you'll see old lobster couples walking around holding claws."

"That's not scientifically true and as a Paleontologist, Ross would have known that."

"It's not supposed to be factual! It's supposed to be **_romantic!_**"

"Is the girl who Ross likes anything like Sara?"

"Rachel? Not at all…Rachel is slow on the uptake, whiny and sleeps around, and her hair and clothes are much better than Sara's."

"So why is Ross interested in her if she's like that?"

"Because she's his LOBSTER!" Catherine shook her head. "Dammit! Weren't you listening? Ugh!" She dropped her head in her hands and moaned, "I think it took seven seasons to get Ross and Rachel together.

If it takes that long to hook up you and Sara I'll lose my mind."

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Second Chances – Part 10**

**August 8, 2005 (Day 108)  
****Shoreline Cabins  
****6:45 p.m. **

Standing in front of the fireplace, Sara held up the two jumbo postcards she had written earlier and gave them a final review.

_Brian Anderson_

_Somewhere San Francisco, CA_

_You always said I was uptight and inhibited but you never thought to ask why or reach out to me. If you had, maybe you would have found I had valid reasons. At a minimum, maybe you wouldn't have laughed behind my back or been man enough to admit I wasn't the girl for you. Instead, you chose to be a self-centered duplicitous jerk who cut me down over my inadequacies. I want to take this opportunity to say thank you. Thank you for giving me a great example of who NOT to date or marry. It came in handy when I was trying to pick the right guy. Sara _

_Brian and Miranda Anderson, _

_Somewhere San Francisco, CA_

_When our paths crossed in San Francisco this June I told you that I was no longer upset about finding the two of you in bed when Brian was supposed to be getting ready for a date with me. I lied. Even though it was six years ago, I was still upset. I don't care how things turned out for the best in the end. At the time it was a really shitty thing for the two of you to do. A little honesty would have spared me one more betrayal in my life full of them. You were both cowards. But I can't change you who you are and your lack of ethics had nothing to do with me. So why harbor animosity over something that's not my problem, right? I wish the two of you the best in your marriage because you deserve each other. For the sake of the child you're having, I sincerely hope you don't eventually do to each other what you did to me. Sara_

Pleased with the sentiments on both, Sara flicked her wrist and sent the cards into the flames. "Dr. Myers was right, this is therapeutic." After watching every last inch of the cards turn to cinder, she grabbed her keys and headed for the door.

**The Grissoms'  
****7:36 p.m. **

Walking through the door, Grissom noted the entryway table was out of place. "Why is…"

"EMTs moved it," Catherine informed him as she recalled the terrifying urgency of the situation that played out there earlier. "We all thought you were stroking out so time was of the essence. Well…when I first found you I thought you tried to kill yourself, _then _I switched to thinking you were stroking out."

"I can't believe you would think I would attempt suicide." While he returned the table to its usual spot, he added, "That would have been the ultimate selfish act for me to do to Sara. The loved ones left behind often feel guilt over suicide. Considering the situation, Sara no doubt would have internalized it to an extreme."

"Well, normally I wouldn't think it, but with the knowledge of Sara leaving you combined with the initial view of the physical evidence…" Sighing, she walked toward the kitchen. "…you on the floor, your bloody hand, empty pill bottles, vomit and a note…it was a valid conclusion."

Recalling the love note from Sara he had torn out of the notebook, he delicately asked, "Did you uh…read the note?"

"Yeah. I read it a few times actually…when I was in the ER waiting room. I used it as an excuse for crying." Reaching into her pants pocket she revealed the referenced piece of paper. "Do you remember my reaction when I showed up at Sara's old apartment to help you search for her credit card number so we could track her down in Tahoe?"

"I recall you exclaiming, '_Wow! Who knew Sara had a warm, feminine side?'_ as you acquainted yourself with the warm decor of the room. It's easy to remember because it was my reaction too." A tiny smile flushed over his lips. "It was a nice surprise…the first of many for me in regards to Sara."

Grinning, Catherine handed over the love note "Wow! Who knew Sara had a mushy romantic side! There was enough _sap_ in that note to cover a day's worth of pancakes at IHOP!"

"A little shocking, huh?"

"Considering the two of you have been together for almost a year and the first display of affection I everwitnessed out of her was what I saw on TV last week…hell yeah."

"Some people have a private side they rarely let anyone see. Obviously I do." With his head feeling better and his hope on the rise, he released a little laugh. "It's not a concept you're personally familiar with but…"

"Don't be so sure," She warned while leaning against the kitchen island. "I do watch Warrick cross-dressing nightly." When she caught Grissom's stunned expression she burst out laughing. "That's the same look Tawny gave me when I told her Greg likes to wear lingerie and stilettos."

"Oh." In a supportive gesture, he replied, "Well uh…it can be a healthy outlet for…"

"I'm kidding! Neither one is a cross-dresser…" She shrugged. "Or at least they haven't shown a proclivity for the lifestyle in front of me. I was exaggerating your point. Yes, most people have a private side they reserve for only a select few to ever see…and some women save it for one special guy."

Holding up the folded paper, Grissom sweetly said, "She's not usually like this even with me…although recently she was displaying it more frequently. Sara…she has a secret penchant for sappy romance movies…I tease her about it actually. And she loves leaving me notes…sweet ones, funny ones and ones that get on my case about something warranted. I have every one of her notes saved in my desk drawer but these sappy ones are my favorite. One time she even underlined certain words which spelled out a message." His voice overflowed with warmth as he softly said, "I love the sappy notes because it's like catching a rare glimpse of Sara as an unburdened, undamaged woman…a girl who still believes in the purity of love despite the ugliness she's been exposed to along the way…the ugliness she witnessed as a child…" His voice saddened as he tucked the cherished note in his pants pocket. "…the same kind of ugliness she unfortunately had to experience in this room yesterday."

Glancing around, Catherine rubbed her hands together. "Speaking of which…let's give you a _therapeutic _assignment. _Carefully this time_…pick up the pieces of shattered glass and while you're doing it, think about why you tend to hurl things when you get pissed. This isn't your first offense. Remember the coffee pot incident with Ecklie? The scotch tumbler incident at your townhouse? Those are the only two I know about but I'm guessing you could think of a few more examples over the last forty years, right?"

"Yes. The first thing I ever pitched in anger was a microscope my father bought me the day he walked out of my life."

"So it's a pattern."

He nodded. "I'm uh…sending Greg to one of those anger-management programs because of his run in with Hodges…specifically his fist running into Hodges' nose. I'm thinking…maybe it would be a good idea if I, as his supervisor, attended with him."

"As his supervisor? Or as a guy who needs to attend?" She scoffed while walking over to the kitchen closet. "You've never been to a rehab program of any kind so I'll give you a tip…acceptance is the first step to recovery, Gil." Retrieving the dustpan and brush, she groaned, "And you have a bunch of things about yourself you need to accept. You need to do some accepting about yourself before Sara will accept you back."

"I know," He replied as he accepted the dustpan and brush from his friend. "I'll attend the program as a guy who needs to attend because he's demonstrated the ability, under duress, to flash to anger in both personal and professional situations."

"Much better." Catherine gave an approving smile. "When you're done with the glass clean up the blood you left all over the kitchen from the cut on your hand. After those two assignments, your next priority is mopping up the chunks you blew all over the bathroom floor, because it was ripe in there when I arrived and that was what…seven hours ago? Luckily you have tile and throw-rugs in there or you'd be ripping out carpet."

"I'm on it."

"While you take care of those things, I'll pick up the pastries and vacuum."

Pausing, he inquired, "Why shouldn't I do that as more therapy?"

With a light chuckle she told him, "By now, the sugar probably attracted bugs and you'd like that! You don't deserve a reward."

**Greg's Apartment  
****8:05 p.m. **

"What did I do to deserve this!" Greg excitedly inquired as he walked into the living room. Much to his surprise, he found Tawny was busy making a home-cooked meal. "Wow." Having just woken up, he wore only his Abercrombie green plaid boxers and as he approached the kitchen, he matted down his bed head.

"What did you do _not _to deserve this is more like it," She sweetly chuckled while rinsing the spaghetti she had boiled. "You brought me Snickers in bed so I'm cooking you dinner."

Breathing in he filled his nose with the tantalizing aroma. "I can't remember the last time real food was cooked in my kitchen by someone else. Wait…the answer is coming to me. Oh yeah…never."

"Don't get too excited," She cautioned. "The sauce is from a jar. But I did add sausage, mushrooms and onions to it."

"It smells fantastic."

"Did you sleep okay?" She asked with a twinge of concern. "I tiptoed in earlier to grab a change of clothes after coming home from work and you were tossing like you were having a bad dream."

"Hmm…I feel rested." Strolling over to the table for two in the corner of room, he bent down and smelled the clay pot planted with bright red flowers. "Impatiens."

Tawny froze. Was he referring to her _I love you_ blurt this morning? Did he think she was prying when she asked about his bad dream? Was it too much? "I'm not impatient!" Catherine had said not to push the issue and she wondered if it was already too late? "I was just…"

"No." Grinning, he joined her at the sink. "_Impatiens_…the flowers on the table are Impatiens."

"Oh." Her sunny smile returned. "You know about flowers?" It was one more thing she found impressive and romantic about Greg.

"Not really. We once had a dead guy hit in the head with a potted plant. Grissom told me the flowers were Impatiens."

After placing the spaghetti in a large pasta bowl, she turned to Greg. "The guy died from being hit in the head with a plant?"

"No." Greg relaxed against the counter and gave the blow by blow. "The wife launched the plant at her husband to get his attention because he was walking away from her when she wanted to talk about remodeling their kitchen. The pot hit the husband in the back of the head then it proceeded to crash through a large plate glass window. The husband, who was off balance from the surprise blow to the head, fell through the shattered window and a shard of glass impaled him in the jugular which led to him bleeding out in minutes."

Tawny took a minute to play the scene in her head then asked, "What was the wife's reaction?"

"She was devastated." He sighed heavily. "She said she never meant to hurt him, she just wanted to get his attention because he never took the time to hear her out." Greg pointed to the flowers. "Later, when we were processing, Grissom said the real cause of death was _impatience by impatiens_ because if the guy had just stopped and taken the time to listen to his wife, he'd still be alive." Shaking his head, he remarked, "Kind of freaky, huh? One minute they're fine and one throw later…it's all over."

"Whoa." She glanced at the flowers on the table. "Now I wished I picked a different potted plant. I was trying to brighten up this place, but now…"

"It's okay," He assured her while pulling her close. "They'll remind me to listen to you."

Being a math whiz, Tawny loosely applied the Transitive Property to his statement. If the husband didn't listen to the wife so she threw the plant, and Greg believes the plant will remind him to listen to me, then Greg must be thinking of me as wife material. "We'll keep the plant," She happily informed him.

"Sorry…" Bringing his hand to his face he groaned, "I promise to try and keep the violent death stories down to a minimum. Here you are cooking this great meal and I'm talking bleed outs."

"Yeah…and we're having bright red sauce." Noting his discomfort, she cracked a smile. "Really, I don't mind listening. I told you, I'm tough." Running her finger over his lips, she sweetly said, "Just not while we're _actually eating_, okay?" So far it was going well. She was taking care of all his needs…supporting him emotionally…feeding him. After all, she knew the fastest way to a guy's heart was through his stomach.

"Deal," He replied before kissing her lingering finger. "Mmm…Onion?"

"Pretty sexy, huh?" She joked…until she saw a spark ignite in his eye that quickly traversed his body.

"Uh…actually, onion is a potent aphrodisiac." No longer thinking about his stomach, he hoped her dinner would keep. "It's uh…second only to garlic."

Eyeing him seductively she suggested, "Maybe you should check my neck for garlic." Gathering her hair off her shoulders, she postured and purred, "Because I used a few cloves and distinctly remember a splash against my skin when I crushed the last one." Why not go for the trinity, she mused…support your man emotionally, take care of his stomach and…drive him _wild_ with a good tease utilizing all those professional skills you've perfected over the years.

While Greg's mouth searched for the zesty flavor, Tawny grinned wildly. "Wait…"

He reluctantly pulled back.

"Now that I think about it, the splash hit my neck, but then it slid _lower_." With a deliberate slowness she popped open the buttons of her blouse to reveal the hot pink lace of her bra. "Why don't you give it another try?"

Breathless, he nodded and followed her instructions.

"Any luck?" She inquired rhetorically while thinking…I can take care of your every need, Greg and I think you're falling for me hard and fast. Good. Then we'll be perfectly matched. In math we call that symmetry.

**The Grissoms'  
****8:29 p.m**.

"_How's that for symmetry?" Grissom adored the look of surprise on Sara's face as she studied the matching platinum wedding bands. "Those aren't rings I want us to slip on when we're home and take off before we go to work. My intention, if you agree, is to wear them twenty-four seven."_

"_Are you saying…"_

_His voice deepened as he continued. "I'm saying that while the vows we exchanged in this room sealed us together in a marriage of true minds, and in my heart they will always be the ones that mean everything to me, I want us to exchange a few more." Taking her hand he lovingly asked, "Sara, will you legally marry me? My name, like my heart and my soul, is yours if you want it."_

Returning the wedding photo to its place on their dresser, Grissom gave a heavy sigh. "Are you still wearing your ring, Sara?" Since she hadn't tossed it on the bed with her other possessions, he was hopeful she hadn't taken it off when she left. Staring at his left hand, he couldn't see his band for it was buried under the bandages covering his stitches.

"I'm back!"

His heart skipped a beat.

"I have your prescriptions!"

But of course it was only Catherine. "I'm in the bedroom," He yelled back relieved it wasn't Sara returning. There was still too much he needed to do before he could face her.

"You look much better now that you've showered. I'm certainly looking forward to you smelling better," Catherine teased as she strolled over carrying three prescription bags. Tossing the first on the dresser she said, "Two bottles of Imitrex, one for home and one for your kit." She dangled the next one in front of him. "Imitrex Statdose auto-injector syringes just in case a migraine comes on too strong to wait for pills to kick in. And lastly, 800mg Motrin," Laughing she said, "Works great on menstrual cramps…the pharmacist also said it would work as an anti-inflammatory for headaches."

"Thanks for picking them up for me." He gathered the bags, preparing to take them to the bathroom.

"That's a great photo." She couldn't ignore its presence. "Why don't you have one on your desk at work?" Picking it up, she studied their ecstatic smiles.

"We wanted to keep a low profile," He quietly replied while heading for the bathroom to stow his prescriptions. "After our TV appearance propelled us into the spotlight I decided to bring one in, but I didn't have a frame. I was planning on buying one tomorrow with Sara when we went to my ENT appointment. She was accompanying me to ensure I didn't miss it for a third time…another thing I have to accept about myself…I have an irrational tendency to put off things which are in my best interest if I think the action might reveal something I don't want to know. "

"Isn't that why you never asked out Sara until it was almost too late?" She groaned. "Fear of rejection?"

"Most of the time it was fear of acceptance. I knew she would say yes and then we'd be on the road to the end. Pessimistic I know but, considering where we are right now, maybe I wasn't that far off." He returned from the bathroom holding one bottle of Imitrex. "Getting back to the photo…I was actually looking forward to being like all the other guys with photos on their desks. Now of course…"

"I think you should still buy the frame and put the picture on your desk." She returned the wedding photo to its proper spot. "It will keep you motivated."

"I've been thinking about what you said, about taking some action to clean up my act." He stuffed the lone bottle of Imitrex he had retained from the bags into his pants pocket. "I'll sign up for the Anger Management class, I'll go to my ENT appointment and then maybe…I was checking Sara's calendar and I saw she has an appointment with Dr. Myers tomorrow. What do you think I should do about that? It's too late to cancel the appointment, so I'll be paying for it."

Seeing his struggle, Catherine re-directed. "I had coffee with Tawny today."

"You did?" He was happy for the reprieve as well as curious. "Why?"

"Greg asked me to mentor her a little." Chuckling she checked her appearance in the mirror above Grissom's dresser. "You know…retired dancer turned career woman helping her make the transition. That girl…I wish I still had energy like hers."

"She and Dom Perignon have the market on bubbly."

Catherine laughed at the joke. "And she's head over heels for Greg."

"Do you think he's her lobster?"

"I don't know about that, but he's definitely a catch in her eyes." Forcing herself to stop obsessing over her hair, she turned from the mirror and faced Grissom. "She told me about the _arrangement_ you made with Dr. Myers for her."

"Oh."

"You're footing the bill but she doesn't know it."

"She has some issues and I wanted to help." He folded his arms across his chest. "I thought giving Tawny the opportunity to get some sound professional help to work through her issues would give her relationship with Greg, and their future baby, a better shot at happiness."

"Do you think it will reflect poorly on Tawny if she goes to therapy? I mean…will Greg look down on her for being weak because she can't figure things out on her own?"

"No. Why would he think that?"

"You tell me." She mirrored his posture. "I mean…why have you never gone to therapy?"

"I don't like to talk about myself."

"Really?" Deciding not to follow up with sarcasm, she probed, "Do you think the fact that you can't talk about yourself to other people could be a sign you need some therapy?"

"Are you suggesting I should take Sara's appointment?"

"Is that something you think might help you?" Before he could answer, she smiled and said, "For the record I'm talking to you like a therapist and you're doing just fine. I'm not giving you the answers anymore…I'm making you discover them on your own."

"Oh." Dropping his arms to his side, he informed her, "Well…I told Tawny that she should go because the issues she has to deal with are bigger than she or Greg could handle."

"And what did you say to Sara when you set up her therapy with Dr. Myers?"

"The same thing…her issues were too significant to deal with on her own. I told her she needed professional help because I could be her support structure but I couldn't be the solution to those problems."

"You are a brilliant man with fantastic insight," She smiled wider. "But how often do you apply your insightfulness to yourself?"

Shaking his head, he huffed, "I believe the correct answer is…not often enough."

Clapping, she teased, "Ding ding! Give the man a prize."

"Is _that _therapy talk?"

"No, that's me being snarky." Turning on her heels, she headed for the door. "Let's go, I grabbed some take out when I went to the pharmacy. Dinner is waiting in the kitchen."

**Greg's Apartment  
****9:10 p.m. **

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Greg breezed into the room showered and dressed for work in jeans and an untucked white and blue pinstripe shirt. "Did dinner survive the wait?"

"Pasta's a little sticky but…" Tawny winked as she cinched her short pink satin robe. "…I think it's a small price to pay."

Taking a seat, he informed her, "I'm so blissed out right now you could feed me _the box_ the pasta was packaged in and I'd think it was the best meal I ever had."

With two bowls in hand, Tawny approached the table smiling. "At least you'll be relaxed when you _start _your shift. Hopefully tonight won't be like last night."

"I certainly hope not." He grabbed the parmesan cheese shaker that was on the table and coated his saucy noodles. "At least I have stuff to talk about in my mandatory PEAP counseling sessions."

Looking at his still bruised face, Tawny sighed. "Will Hodges be there tonight?"

"Should be."

"I forgot to tell you." She mindlessly twirled her fork in her pasta while she spoke. "I made my first therapy appointment."

"Great," He replied after swallowing the clump of pasta he had shoveled in his mouth. "Between your therapy and my mandated counseling and anger management sessions, you and I are going to be fit to be great parents by the time the baby arrives."

It was exciting to hear him mention the baby but at the same time it activated her paranoia. Her 'friends' words echoed in her head…_Tawny, alls we're saying is guard that baby 'cause its your all-access pass to Mr. Wonderful. Don't go riding any horses, walking down spiral staircases in heels or doing any risky shit. You get my drift, girlfriend_?

Putting down his fork, Greg paused for a sip of water. "I forgot to tell you something too."

"What?" She forced her friends' words out of her head.

"My mom called." Picking up his fork, he said, "She wanted to come out to meet you but I told her not to waste her time."

Alarms rang in Tawny's head and once again her friends sang like a pessimistic chorus in her mind… _When this guy takes her home to meet his mama and slaps a diamond on her finger then I'll believe in fairy tales. Paula, you should know from watching Moulin Rouge that diamonds are a girl's best friend not promises from a guy. _"Oh…um…"

Twisting his fork, he said, "I told her she'll meet you next month when I take you home with me for Labor Day weekend then, afterwards I realized that I just assumed you would go with me. I didn't ask. Sorry about that. Do you think you can get off work and come with me because I'd love for you to meet my mom?"

"Yes!" A geyser of enthusiasm, she screamed, "Are you kidding? Yes!"

"Great!" In his excitement over her happiness, he dropped a strand of spaghetti on his shirt. Without thinking, he plucked it off and popped it in his mouth. "Oh…" He flashed a tense smile. "I just lost a cool point for that didn't I?"

Beaming, she told him, "Don't sweat it. You still have 999 to go."

"That should get me through the month at least." Wiping the stain on his shirt, he groaned, "This is my most conservative shirt. I was trying to tone it down tonight to increase my odds of not pissing off Grissom."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****9:32 p.m. **

_To my husband, _

_I know my stealthy approach about hiding your father was foolish and bound to upset you. I also realize now, my response was instinctual. As a child I stopped at nothing to prevent my parents from fighting…even lying._

_I want you to know that I understand using sex to lure you into the bedroom was wrong and only added to your shock and humiliation. We both know that there are only two things that make you stop thinking of anything else…bugs and sex. Caught without a jar full of beetles, I did the best with what I had so I could distract you and prevent the confrontation between you and your father. I can only imagine how awful you felt in those seconds when you thought I was cheating on you and then to find out it was your father I was hiding clearly ripped you apart. I'm sorry for putting you through that experience. I assure you it will **never** happen again in the future because I've seen what lying, even with the best intentions, can do to you…to us. I learned my lesson. _

_I do want you to understand that the only reason I let your father in was to gather critical health information. I was worried about your heart…kind of ironic since I broke it hours later. _

_Once your father was inside I let him stay because he had other information I longed to know…stories about you. He was willing to give me the information in exchange for a simple glass of water. He made it easy. You make it so hard. That's why I let him stay… ironic again, since my thirst to get closer to you drove you away hours later. I'm sorry about this too. I'm sorry that you couldn't open up to me more. I'm sorry that I let myself jump through hoops to learn more about you. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to assert myself and say that I needed more. _

_I hope that you are thinking of these things too. I hope you're trying to understand what really happened and why we did and said the things we did. I need you to discover and accept some things. I need you to change some things too. I need to change some things so I'm staying here until I work through these issues. Please don't find me until you do the same. If you don't think it's important to do these things…I'd rather you not find me even though it will be hard to go our separate ways. _

_In my heart I know we can get through this and be better for it. In your mind, do you feel the same way? What about in your heart? I hope you do. Prove to me you care by doing some work. When you've worked on yourself, find me. If you think about it, you will know how. I used my old credit card for a reason. Take some time, do what's necessary and then find me. _

_Love, _

_Sara _

Sitting on the couch, Sara looked up from the journal. The cabin was quiet except for the sound of the crackling fire. Closing the book, she tucked it under the bed pillow she had on the couch. "Enough thinking for one day," She sighed as she stood up. "I need to give my exhausted mind a break."

**Crime Lab  
****Break Room  
****9:55 p.m. **

Greg was making a special pot of Kona Diamond when Grissom walked in and asked, "How's your face today, Slugger? I just saw Hodges and he's got cotton jammed up his nose and two black eyes."

"Well…I may be bruised on the outside but inside, I'm perfect…better than perfect…fantastic!" He held up an empty mug. "In less than two minutes you will have your favorite cup of coffee…Kona Diamond."

"I hope you're not doing this to suck up to me." It was the last thing Grissom wanted. "I was the one who snapped at and belittled you, remember?"

"No, I'm not sucking up, I'm celebrating! You just happen to be at the party!" Greg spun around and checked the progress of the pot. "Tonight it's official…I'm the luckiest guy in the world."

"Tawny?" Grissom inquired in a bittersweet tone. It was nice to see Greg so blissful but it reminded him of his loss.

"She is…the perfect woman for me." Greg turned and flashed a brilliant smile at his boss.

Grissom returned the grin. "Is she _your lobster_?"

"Ha!" Greg shook with laughter. "_You _watch Friends? No way I believe that."

"No," He chuckled lightheartedly for the first time in days. "Catherine told me about it and I absorbed it."

Quoting his boss's comment from yesterday, he retorted, "You absorb everything." Grabbing the fresh pot of gourmet coffee, he started pouring.

"In the _past _I absorbed everything, even things people told me that I shouldn't have believed, but going forward I think I'm testing out _your approach_." He accepted the mug he was offered. "I'm going to try to absorb only the stuff worth soaking up."

Teasingly Greg asked, "You want some crème for that, Grasshopper?"

"No thanks, I'm watching my cholesterol." He raised the mug. "Congratulations on finding your lobster, Greg."

"Thanks but, _I _didn't findmy lobster, she found you. As I recall it, she had one pincer on your wallet and one pincer on your ass when I first saw encountered her. Luckily, you passed on seafood that night."

"I passed because I already had my lobster at home." Lowering his mug, he grinned. "You know what they say…lobsters mate for life. So now that you have yours, take my advice…do everything you can to hold onto her, because she's one of a kind."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

"**Second Chances – Part 11"**

**August 9, 2005 (Day 109)  
****Crime Lab  
****Grissom's Office  
****4:13 a.m. **

Grissom sat staring at Hodges and Greg, who were occupying his guest chairs. While he was patiently waiting for them to produce their cashier's checks he ran through the details of the arrangement. "When I see Nick I'll have him lock up the checks in his office. He'll give them to Carrie, who is coming by to see him at ten this morning. She'll make restitution with the bar owner this afternoon on your behalf and her bill will be in the mail to each of you by five o'clock."

"Here you go, Boss." Greg reluctantly forked over his $500 check. "I'll miss it, but it's a hell of a lot better than the alternative."

"Absolutely." Grissom smiled. "With that hair, you'd be the Belle of the Ball in jail, Greggy. Remember that should you ever get close to crossing the line again."

"Here." Hodges slapped his $500 check on the desk. "Besides this, I had to pay a $50 co-pay at the Emergency Room, plus prescription costs and look at me! My down time with the ladies is priceless." Focusing his two black eyes on Greg he glared. "This sucks."

"So did what you said about my girlfriend," Greg calmly informed him. "So maybe you better think twice before you open your mouth and insult a woman's dignity. Sure, _I'll _be controlling myself in the future but who knows…you could say something about another guy's woman and he might kill you. It's like road rage…you just never know who you're going to set off and what he's capable of on a bad day."

Hodges grumbled, "Thanks for the advice, Sanders. I hope you're listening to it yourself. Think twice about popping someone in the face with your fist, they might come back at you with a knife or a gun."

"Very good, boys. Sounds like you've thought things through." Grissom smiled approvingly. "David, here is your counseling information. You need to set up your first session within five days." He handed over the packet. "That's all I have for you, you're free to go back to Trace."

"Thanks." Hodges quickly stood and headed for the door. "The whole place is falling apart because I wasn't here yesterday."

Greg fought the urge to retort and remained seated. "I suppose you have one of those packets for me too?"

"Uh huh." Grissom slid the large envelope toward Greg. "But there's something extra in yours. You get to spend the next six Saturday mornings with me at Anger Management class."

"You're going with me?" He was surprised by the information. "Oh…do you have to go because you're my supervisor?" Great, he thought, one more reason for Grissom to get ticked at me.

"No, it's voluntary. I thought it might prevent me from snapping at you in the future." Sighing, he sat back in his chair. "That's not the only reason. Under certain conditions, like you, I can be a little too quick to anger. I need to work on that."

"And you wanted to be in class with me." Greg smiled. "I'm feeling the love again."

"Don't read too much into it. They always make you partner up in these programs and if I'm going to have to share, I'd rather share stuff with _you _than a total stranger."

"Cool. We can carpool and listen to the radio." Greg relaxed in his seat for the first time since taking it. "On the way home, we can test out what you've learned. I'll play the most irritating music I can find and see if you lose it."

"There's a new twist on road rage."

Suddenly Greg panicked. "Wait! Did you say the next six Saturdays?"

"Yes."

"Labor Day weekend included?"

"Oh…" Grissom searched his desk. "…I believe the schedule said there was no class on that day." Tossing on his glasses, he read the paper. "No class Labor Day Weekend. That's right…you have the time off to visit your parents. You do every year."

"This year is special because I'm bringing Tawny to meet the folks." Racing his fingers through his flat-ironed hair, he moaned, "And I have to break the news about the baby to my dad. Talk about someone needing Anger Management."

"I always thought you had a good relationship with your father." Grissom leaned forward. Father-son issues were of particular interest considering his situation of late. "Don't you?"

"We do ninety-nine percent of the time." Greg fidgeted in his seat. "But when I do something really disappointing…look out. He doesn't get violent or anything if that's what you're worried about. He just verbally berates me and makes me feel like a colossal failure before I can explain or show I'm taking accountability. Uh…kind of like how you did last night, only worse." Lighting up, he announced, "I know! Since you act just like my dad in the same situation, I can role play it with you."

"You want _me_ to pretend to be your father?" Grissom scratched at his beard.

"It will be good practice for you in case the kid you eventually have is a boy and he gets a girl pregnant."

"There's something I need to think about." Grissom shook his head. Considering the status of the Feasibility Study, the talk of being a father was especially painful. "Uh…"

"We don't have to do it now, we've got time." Greg held up his counseling packet. "We can do it at one of our Anger Management sessions."

"I look forward to it," Grissom lied.

"Speaking of sessions..." Greg glanced over his shoulder. "Tawny told me she has her first therapy appointment with Dr. Myers today."

"Good." He didn't let on that Catherine had mentioned it already.

"Last night, when I wanted to ride with you to the scene and you refused, I wanted to talk about this arrangement you made for her."

"Sorry…I really wasn't myself yesterday."

"You're paying out of your pocket, aren't you?" Greg smiled. "A little more secret philanthropy? I know you're the wallet behind Nick and Sara's backpack project too."

"I felt obligated to help after the magazine I brought over set off Tawny." Grissom explained, "She doesn't have insurance. She can't go on yours because you're not married. I know what you make, Greg, and you can't afford Dr. Myers, and I wanted her to get some quality help. I hope I didn't step on your toes…"

"Not at all." He shrugged. "The most important thing is that she gets some help. My pride is secondary to her well being."

"Now that's something worth absorbing," Grissom remarked in a surprised tone.

"But you already know that," He laughed. "At the police station, remember? You advised that I wouldn't do Tawny or the baby any good if I went to jail so I should stop listening to my ego and shut the hell up."

Once again Grissom wondered, why the hell don't I listen to my own damn advice!

"Back to this Anger Management program…" Greg changed to a mischievous tone. "The _only _out of control emotion it's going to reign in is _anger,_ right? I mean they're not going to brainwash me into an emotion zombie, are they? Because I personally like feeling out of control."

"Really?" It was an unfathomable concept to Grissom.

Greg's eyes fired as he explained, "Like last night for example, I was on a downward spiral and then Tawny swooped in and together we went into a whole new zone. I loved the rush…I'm still reeling from it today." He could tell Grissom wasn't tracking. "It's like surfing…one minute you're on calm, glassy water then all of a sudden a wave is coming at you and you're scrambling; you go for the ride and by the time you're done, whether you wiped out or not…mind, body and soul, you're exhilarated. I need that. It's the only thing separating me from the corpses I see every day. I can't live any other way. I know if I tried, I'd end up dying on the inside."

Grissom sat listening as if he were observing an alien life form.

"You remember how tweaked I was when I found out about the pregnancy…look at me now!" He enthusiastically tossed up his arms. "From hell to heaven in a matter of weeks. I'm flying!"

"There's a medical term for this you know…mania." Grissom folded his arms. "There's also medication available to control it."

"Are you kidding?" He scoffed. "I don't want to be medicated out of this…it's what life is supposed to feel like."

"Don't you think you're setting yourself up for a fall?" With his curiosity piqued, he nosed, "Aren't you worried that one day you and Tawny will disagree or she'll do something to make you come crashing down and the rush will be gone as fast as it came?"

"That's bound to happen, so why worry about it?" He shrugged. "Waves _always _end but more keep coming…good, bad, whatever…at least I'm riding now instead of sitting on the beach watching everyone else."

Having grown up by the ocean it was easy for Grissom to visualize Greg's analogy. Understanding why he enjoyed the unrestrained feeling was much harder.

"I'm actually looking forward to my first argument with Tawny."

"Now you've really lost me." Grissom gaped at the boy. "Why?"

"Once we have one, there won't be the pressure of waiting for the first one to happen plus, I know making up will be mind blowing." Bouncing in his seat, he grinned. "Channeling all those strong emotions into one explosive kiss followed by…you know…totally out of control passion-fueled lovin'. Wow…I'm really oversharing now. You must be twitching for me to shut the hell up."

"Yeah." Grissom shooed him. "I used to think your addictions were hair gel, gourmet coffee and bad music, but now I realize you're an adrenaline junkie and emotion is your fix."

Greg stood up laughing. "Don't knock passion-fueled make-up lovin' until you've tried it."

"What makes you think I haven't?" He huffed.

"Because you wouldn't have asked 'why' I was looking forward to an argument with Tawny if you had."

As he watched Greg stroll out of his office, Grissom realized he had done for most of his life what his emotionally enthusiastic co-worker feared most…kept _all _emotions, even the good ones, under control while sitting on the beach watching everyone else go for a ride.

His thoughts turned to one of the strongest emotional displays he ever made, his post-Tahoe plea for Sara to stay in Vegas followed by their first kiss…

_It was a kiss for her tired soul to melt into and Sara's body responded with a pleasure-fused sigh. After starting out sweet, like their flirtatious friendship years ago, the kiss deepened and slowed like their relationship had over time and in its last breathless moments, a mutual passion ignited…foreshadowing a delicious intensity yet to come._

_When their lips parted their eyes opened, exposing their mutual satisfaction and burning desires they knew they would find a way to make the relationship work._

_Finally able to speak, Sara whispered, "Wow…um…pretty spontaneous for two supposedly un-spontaneous people."_

_With their bodies still clasped, he barely mustered a coherent thought "Agreed."_

"_Makes you wonder what other impromptu actions we're capable of…exhibiting." Grinning, Sara coyly asked, "Are you uh…thinking what I'm thinking?"_

"_Actually I'm thinking two things…well only one is a thought really, the other is more of a..." Taking a deep breath and a step back, he answered her question. "I think we should go out and grab some lunch… analyze how we're going to handle our working relationship now that we've decided to start a personal relationship." _

That moment was one of those out of control moments but we reined it in quick because we were afraid of giving into those feelings. We always do that. We've never let our emotions carry us away…into the bedroom...a little further into each other's hearts.

We're so similar that we couldn't help each other. She went to therapy to confront her issues. I didn't. She's made progress. I haven't. The notes she writes…she's freeing a part of herself and she's hoping I'll do the same.

**Shoreline Cabins  
****6:21 a.m. **

Sara, dressed to go running, sat at the kitchen table sipping orange juice and reviewing her morning's work.

_To Professor Hawkins,_

_Remember me, Sara Sidle? I was the overachieving eighteen year old student in your Organic Chem class who you knew wanted to please you. Looking back, I think we both know you played me. I know I wasn't the first or the last girl you played either. Hopefully you've changed your behavior and realize that fragile young women aren't your play toys. I no longer feel guilty over getting that A. I deserved it. _

_To Professor Samuels,_

_Remember me, Sara Sidle? I was the overachieving nineteen year old student in your Sociology class who you knew wanted to please you. Looking back, I think we both know you played me. I know I wasn't the first or the last girl you played either. Hopefully you've changed your behavior and realize that fragile young women aren't your play toys. I no longer feel guilty over getting that A. I deserved it. _

_To Professor Conway,_

_Remember me, Sara Sidle? I was the overachieving twenty year old student in your Art History class who you knew wanted to please you. Thanks for being honest with me from start to finish, for the best six months of my time spent at Harvard, for teaching me to dance and most of all for proving that not all men are pigs. I hope you're doing well. Sara _

Getting up, she placed her empty orange juice glass in the kitchen sink and holding her three postcards, she walked over to the fireplace and pitched them into the flames.

Mesmerized by the wilting pictures on the cards, she was easily startled when the phone rang.

After two rings, it stopped for a moment and when it started again, she picked up the receiver. "Morning, Jim."

"Sleep well?"

"Actually, yes. Even though I'm sleeping on the couch." Plopping down in a chair, she inhaled deeply. "I'm really clearing my head."

"Good."

Tapping her fingers on her thigh, she nervously inquired, "Have you spoken with him again?"

"Five minutes ago."

"Did he ask about me?"

"First words out of his mouth were_, have you spoken to Sara_ followed by, _does she sound okay_ and, _are you sure she is safe_?"

"How does he look?"

"Like a lovesick idiot who realizes he screwed up the best thing he ever had going."

Closing her eyes she could picture the expression. "What else did he say?"

"I thought you didn't want to know this stuff?"

"That was yesterday."

"Okay." Brass's words were preceded by a laugh. "It's more like what _didn't _he say? He dropped a shit load of random information on me and I don't think it was because he was up for some male bonding."

"Like what?" She felt a smile rising along with the sun out side.

"Oh, things like, Greg has to take an Anger Management class because of his run-in with Hodges so he signed up to go along. That he has an ENT appointment this morning so he can't pull a double. When we got coffee he made a point of going on and on about not using cream and how he needed to watch what he was eating because of his health. He said since you'll be missing your therapy appointment today, he's planning on stopping by to speak with Dr. Myers about a special case so he doesn't waste money on an unused session. And lastly, and most confusing, he said you're a lobster. Hey…I'm being pulled into a conference call so I've got to scoot. Call me later if you have something for me to relay. Take care."

"Bye." Grinning, she hung up the phone and translated the code…

He signed up for Anger Management class with Greg – he knows he has a problem and is getting help.

He has an ENT appointment this morning – he's not avoiding his hearing test because he knows I'd be pissed. He understands the importance of keeping on top of the issue and keeping me informed. He's not handling it like his mother did.

He passed on the cream in his coffee – it's in reference to the love note I left him in the nursery. He's being _the kind of husband who knows his wife loves him too much to lose him before it's _time…_so he skips the cream in his coffee_. He wants to show he's still that kind of husband.

He's stopping by Dr. Myers's office to speak about a _special case_ – he's putting himself in therapy. Even though he's told me he could never do it, he's doing it now…for me. What he doesn't know is he's doing it for himself too.

I'm a lobster – no clue about this one. I'm like shellfish? I'm waiting to be cracked open and savored? Maybe something to do with the pincers? OH! I have a hold on him. That must be it.

While she summed up the totality of his actions, her heart raced. "He's doing just what I need," She joyously announced to the empty cabin. "He still loves me. He wants to make things right. He's doing the work."

**Dr. Myers's Office  
****9:56 a.m. **

Grissom stood at the secretary's desk calmly discussing the billing arrangements for Tawny while panic rioted within him. In less than four minutes, Dr. Myers's door would open and he'd be stepping into the scary new world of self discovery.

Pointing to the billing statement, Tracy, the secretary, explained, "Both Sara and Tawny are under the same billing account number to simplify things. Their sessions will be listed as line items with Sara as the 01 and Tawny as the 02. This way, if you want to add any additional people to the account all I have to do is assign another prefix rather than create a new billing account."

"Great." He forced a smile. "Because I may have a third person to add."

"Just give me a call when you have their name…"

"Dr. Grissom," Dr. Myers, sharply dressed in a mint green St. John Knit suit and designer pumps warmly greeted him from her entrance door. The fifty-six year old plucky woman with her golden blonde hair cut in a blunt bob appeared authoritative yet not intimidating. "Tracy told me you would be stopping by to discuss a case since Sara couldn't keep her appointment."

"That's correct, Doctor." He matched her professional demeanor. "I have some theories I'd like to run by you."

"If you're billing this session to the County let me know and I'll double my fee." With a light chuckle, she clarified, "Just kidding…it's a running joke in the Clark County Psych community."

"Right." He pushed out a reciprocal laugh as he reluctantly started toward her door.

When she realized her visitor had stopped outside her door, Dr. Myers motioned for him to enter. "Oh come on, has your wife ever come home with bite marks after spending time in my office?"

Her friendly manner caught him off guard and he stepped forward. "No, she hasn't. Sara has only the best things to say about you."

"You realize I can't say anything about the content of Sara's sessions, right? Doctor-client privilege." She took a seat behind her desk. "You didn't provide specific case information to Tracy so I wasn't sure if it was really Sara you wanted to discuss." Her suspicions were high now that she had a few minutes to study his eyes and body language.

"I understand doctor-client privilege." Gingerly he closed the door behind him, firmly committing to spending time trapped in the room. "And I'm not here to discuss Sara."

She eased back in her sleek black leather chair. "Great." Eyeing the brilliant and emotionally-challenged man she heard about from Sara once or twice per week for the last nine months, her mind raced with possibilities. He's finally here about himself! From the information Sara mentioned about him, Dr. Myers knew there was a wealth of exploring to do and she was up for a challenge. "So what would you like to discuss, Dr. Grissom?" She asked while watching him pace around acquainting himself with the office.

"Well…" He studied the books lining her shelves. "I'm not exactly sure…any suggestions?"

Picking up her favorite Mont Blanc pen, she said, "It's your hour, Dr. Grissom, so you need to be the one who does the choosing. We can talk about anything you'd like…we can discuss case profiles, the stress you experience on the job, or we could discuss you personally." Softening her tone she informed him, "I don't have a menu to give you to make a selection if that's what you're hoping. You wouldn't be the first to hope for that."

Selecting a random volume from the shelf of books, he cleared his throat and said, "Do you like movies, Dr. Myers?"

"Love them. Think they're a wonderful escape and some are even cathartic." Smiling, she asked, "Is there a particular movie you want to discuss?"

"Yes." He replaced the book on the shelf and picked another. "Pretty Woman. Have you seen it?"

"Several times. It's always on one of my cable channels." Now that it was officially not a business meeting but a session, she moved out from behind her desk and took a seat in one of the overstuffed arm chairs in the middle of the room. "Many interesting themes running through that movie, don't you think?"

"I haven't seen the whole thing. Just parts." He slid the book he had been studying back to its spot on the shelf and selected another. "And I've discussed bits of it with Sara."

"What is it about the movie that intrigued you?"

With his back to her he continued to leaf through the text he was holding. "The premise…the male lead…I don't know his name."

"Edward," She supplied. "And the young lady is Vivian."

"Okay, so this guy Edward, he solicits Vivian, gives her money and various other perks like clothing and excursions in exchange for not just sex, but companionship on his terms…no emotional attachment. When the term of the contract is up they are expected to both go their separate ways, each having received something in return."

"I would agree with that assessment."

Placing the book on the shelf, he posited, "Why do you think he resorts to the arrangement instead of seeking companionship in a traditional way?"

"In the movie he says he does it because he's tired of disappointing relationships. He needs a companion for the week to attend social business events so he decides to take a short cut and hire someone to play the part of his date. He believes that in doing this he'll avoid all the usual trappings of interpersonal interaction."

"So he's protecting himself from being hurt?" For the first time, he turned around.

"Although he wouldn't see it that way at the beginning of the movie, yes."

Leaning against the bookshelf he nervously asked, "What motivates a guy to avoid emotional entanglement to the extreme that he sets up a non-emotional barter arrangement to fill his need for companionship, rather than try to develop sincere human attachment with a woman?"

She pointedly replied, "Are we talking about Edward or are we talking about someone else? Because you said, 'a guy'. You know motivation is subjective depending on the circumstances. So clarify for me…are we still discussing Edward?"

He shook his head. "No. I was the guy."

"Who was the girl?"

"Someone I met when I lived in LA, a college student who needed an Algebra tutor. She was putting herself through college as an escort. We made an arrangement…I tutored her in Algebra every Tuesday and Thursday for an hour and then she provided an hour of companionship. The first day of our arrangement was my first time with a woman. I was twenty-four. Prior to that…I never even kissed a girl." Crossing his arms, he sighed, "I told Sara the story last week and I was laughing and still thinking it was a perfect experience. She on the other hand said her first time was terrible…some guy from her Applied Statistics class."

"How did you feel about her story?" She studied his body language and sensed he was loosening up ever so slightly.

"When she first told me, I didn't ask for additional information. I felt bad for her. Plus, I was afraid if I asked for more about her story, then she would ask more about mine. That type of reciprocity terrifies me so…" Breathing in, he decided to venture away from the bookshelf toward one of the empty chairs. "Anyway, later that night, after she lost a bet playing Centipede against me, I won the opportunity to ask her any three questions. See…I won the questions…only_ I_ could do the asking so it was safe. Does that make sense?"

"You want to acquire information about others but you don't like to provide it in return, so you wait for opportunities for one-sided communication."

"Exactly. So when I had the opportunity, I asked her to tell me why her experience was so awful." Slowly he took a seat in the chair. "Turns out it was awful because the guy didn't have the same feelings for her as she did for him. After they made love…her first time, not his, he got a call from his buddies to go drinking. When she didn't want to go, he left her and she spent the night crying alone in her dorm room."

"Drastically different experiences. How did you feel about your story after hearing the details of hers? Did you still think you had the better story?"

"Yes, until I started thinking about it." Slowly he let his back fall against the chair. "She took a risk and in the end got burned, but at least she felt emotionally connected to the person…to the act. Really, doesn't that make her story the good one and mine…sad?"

"Why do you think you avoided emotionally connecting to a woman all those years?"

Running his open palm over his mouth, he gave a nervous laugh. "Ready for a cliché?"

"There are no clichés in here." She assured him. "Just say whatever is on your mind."

"Okay." After a deep breath in and out, he threw up his arms. "I blame my mother."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****11:15 a.m. **

Panting from her three mile run, Sara climbed the stairs to her cabin, tugging at her ponytail holder. She had forgotten the pleasure of running in the great outdoors compared to the monotony of jogging on an indoor treadmill.

Once inside, she headed for the fridge to grab a bottle of water and an apple. A little nourishment before she sat down to write her toughest assignment yet. A postcard, not even a jumbo one, wouldn't cut it. This was going to be long, tough and she hoped, cathartic.

**Grissom's Car  
****11:15 a.m. **

With the air conditioning blasting, Grissom sat in his car which was still parked outside of the medical building housing Dr. Myers's office. The experience was daunting yet intensely illuminating and, as much as he hated to admit it, he looked forward to his Thursday session.

In the last few minutes of today's session they made arrangements for future sessions every Tuesday and Thursday morning…a little ironic…a little symbolic.

Today was just the tip of the tip of the iceberg. There were still a myriad of issues to sort through and figure out. As he sat in his car letting the cold air blow over his flushed face, Grissom knew what he had to do to expedite matters. In the interest of mending things with Sara, he pulled out his cell phone and without hesitation dialed the numbers for information 1-4-1-1.

Upon hearing the automated voice requested information, he quickly provided it. "Mandalay Bay Hotel, Las Vegas."

When the option to connect the call directly was given, he pressed the pound sign and waited.

"Mandalay Bay, how may I direct your call?"

"Room 1272…Ron Grissom."

"One moment while I transfer you."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****11:47 a.m. **

Drying her red eyes, Sara lifted the letter for one more attempt at reading it through from start to finish.

_Dear Daddy, _

_This letter is a long time coming and I'm not sure how it's going to turn out but, here it goes. _

_Most of the time you were a good father. Good meaning you ensured my physical needs were met. You told me I was smart and pretty. You were insistent that I get a good education. You taught me how to ride a bike and throw a ball. You picked me up when I scraped my knees and you even took me to the zoo. Those are all things a good father does. _

_You had high hopes for me, and as far back as I can remember I never let you down. I still haven't. I've gone to Harvard and to Berkeley and a few months ago, I finished my Ph.D. If you were here I know you would say, 'I'm proud of you Baby Girl' just like you did when I won the spelling bee in second grade. _

_I had high hopes for you too, Daddy, but you let me down regularly. You seemed to think that you could be a great father while being a horrible husband, but it doesn't work that way. As her daughter, I had a part of mom in me and every time you took a piece of her dignity, you took a piece of mine too. As a girl I couldn't help but think whatever you saw in her that you disliked, had to be in me too. Now I realize there is nothing wrong with me but do you know how long it took me to get to that realization? I'll be thirty-five next month and I just figured it out this year. Is that what you wanted for your Baby Girl? _

_I've been remembering a lot of things this week. Memories I had buried so deep inside me I didn't know they were there. They didn't even come out in therapy. It took a trauma to drive them out of me and at first I resented their presence, but not anymore. You see, I've tried to write this letter a hundred times, but never could. One trauma later I'm writing a novel. _

_Here's what I remember. Out of the blue, mom would do something you perceived as wrong and you would snap. In my foggy child's memory combined with an adult perspective, I can honestly say I think sometimes she was doing wrong things, maybe terribly wrong, but most of the time she probably wasn't. I can't really be sure, but either way, she didn't deserve the punishment you dealt. _

_Do you know what used to happen to me? Right before my eyes you would disappear and a monster would take your place. During those times, the monster wore your clothes and my mother called the monster by your name, but I refused to believe it was you. I would hide in the corner hoping the monster would go away and you would return. I'd fold my hands and pray like I learned at school from the kids who went to church. When praying didn't work I turned to wishing. I'd close my eyes tight and wish the monster would disappear forever. One day, my mother made my wish come true. The monster went away forever, but when he did…he took my father with him. That's the day I realized you were one and the same. _

_You were gone so you didn't get to see what happened. I'll fill you in. It was a day of many firsts. I saw my first dead body…yours. I saw my first handcuffed person…my mother. I met my first social worker…I don't remember her name. I packed my first suitcase, said goodbye to my first dog and left my first house…the only home I had ever known. After that, I stepped foot in my first foster home and experienced pity for the first time. Is that what you wanted for your Baby Girl? Mom may have killed you and caused this final series of tragic events in my young life, but your first punch is what set everything in motion. _

_Dr. Myers has a quote hanging in her office that I've always admired. It's by Maya Angelou and it says, "You did what you knew how to do. And when you knew better, you did better." _

_I'd like to think it applies to you. You loved us, I know you did. You just didn't know how to love quite right. I'd like to believe it was because you never had a chance to learn any better. You didn't get a chance because you didn't believe or admit you had a problem. You didn't get a chance because mom didn't turn you in when she knew you deserved it. You didn't get a chance because you didn't get caught by policemen who were too apathetic to force the issue._

_Do you know today I make it my business to catch guys like you for a living? I love my job, Daddy. I'm really good at it too. I didn't catch you because I was just a little girl who didn't understand that what you were doing was abnormal. Today I would recognize it in a second. I'd know my mother's explanation of her broken bones or bruises were implausible. Today I would catch you in a heartbeat and have you locked away just as fast. Then I'd get my mother the help she needed to realize she didn't deserve to be your punching bag. It's like Maya Angelou's quote…now that I know better, I'm doing better. It's just too late to do better for you or mom. _

_I hope today, the guys like you I help put away, get a wake up call when they're locked in a cell for the first time. While they are there, I hope they take the opportunity to learn better and to do better once they earn their freedom. Because there is no way of knowing how you would have responded to incarceration, I choose to believe that's what you would have done if given the chance. You would have come away a wiser and better man. I would have forgiven you. And when you proved to me that you knew better and did better, I would have said, 'I'm proud of you, Daddy." _

_I'm not a naïve girl, I know a large portion of offenders aren't remorseful and/or rehabilitated. Some are caught and although they are educated, they still choose not to do better when given a second chance. All I can say to them is there's a special place in hell waiting. If you turned out to be one of those guys, Daddy, I'd tell you the same. But I don't think that's how you would have turned out._

_I choose to believe you would have changed if given a chance to pay for your crimes. Do you know why I believe that? Because like I am half of my mother, I'm half of you too. So the good I know exists in me I believe existed in you too. It just didn't know how to get out because the demons inside you blocked the way. _

_Freud says there are no accidents. I'm not sure if he's right but this week makes me think there's some truth to his theory. A man showed up at my door and triggered a series of events that led me to finally writing this letter. I needed to write this letter and now that I have I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders that's been bogging me down for decades. Maybe another saying is more appropriate. When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. That's what this letter is…a big glass of lemonade that I made from the lemons I received a couple of days ago. _

_I think after hearing what I've said in this letter there's only one comment I imagine you would make, 'I'm proud of you Baby Girl." _

_Thanks, Daddy. But more importantly, I'm proud of myself. _

_One day in the future I'm going to be a parent myself and one of the things I hope to accomplish in that role is breaking the cycles you and mom perpetuated. The cycles of domestic violence, alcoholism and infidelity (I'm guessing on this one, but from what I recall I think it to be true). Those are three things I refuse to propagate. Those are three things my child will never witness or suffer from as a result of his mother or father doing them. The cycles stop with me. It's my burden and unlike you or mom, I'm strong enough to say no. Is that what you wanted for your Baby Girl? I think it was. _

_Goodbye, Daddy. _

_Love,_

_Sara_

Folding the piece of paper in half, Sara reached out with a trembling hand and released it into the roaring flames along with years of pent up emotion.

With each crackle of the fire she felt a little freer and for the first time in days she wished she could curl up in her husband's arms and share her thoughts.

**Mandalay Bay Hotel  
Room 1272  
****11:49 a.m. **

Thrilled at the prospect of his son's arrival, Ron Grissom opened the door with a smile. "Hello, Gil." He motioned for him to enter and was pleased when he saw no hesitation. "I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty of ordering us some lunch."

"Actually…" Pausing for a steadying breath, he glanced at the dining table filled with food and beverages and as much as he wanted to say no, he replied, "I haven't eaten anything all day so, thank you, I'm starving."

"Right this way then." Ron crossed the room and took a seat. "It's all healthy stuff, but the hotel has a knowledgeable chef who knows how to make it taste decent." Since he could tell his son was tense, Ron did the talking. "That's the trick when you have to cut out all the good stuff…you know, the fat and the sugar. You need to know what to add in to hide the fact the food you have to eat sucks." Unfurling his cloth napkin, he remarked, "It took me three tries, but I finally have a gal who cooks for me that could make shit seem appetizing."

"Good for you," He replied with no emotion in his voice as he took a seat opposite his father. "How long are you planning on staying in Vegas?"

"How long would you like me to stay?"

"Please…" Gil held up his hand and pleaded, "I just finished my first hour of therapy and I'm exhausted from answering redirected questions. So do me a favor and keep this conversation as simple as possible. If I ask a question just answer it straight, okay?"

"Fine by me, now I won't have to think of clever responses." Ron lifted the pepper shaker. "I planned on leaving Vegas on Wednesday if I didn't hear from you. Now that you've called I'm inclined to stick around a while longer and see if you call again. Honest enough for you?"

Gil nodded as he placed his napkin on his lap.

Shrugging, Ron informed him, "It's not like I have some place to be. I'm retired and rich…a combination that lets me do what I please. I'd like to stay long enough to see things work out between you and Sara. Selfish reasons of course…despite what I said yesterday, I feel guilty over what happened."

"No, you were right." Gil lifted his fork and used it to shuffle his salad. "Sara leaving was all about me and my behavior choices."

"You say today was your first session, but you sound like you've been going to therapy for months." Ron chuckled. "Therapy is exhausting, but if you keep at it, it gets easier. After a while, I looked forward to going." Ron peppered his salmon salad as he spoke. "If your mother and I had gone to some sort of counseling, I bet things would have turned out a lot differently."

"That's why I'm here." Gil announced. "I need you to tell me some good things about mom." After bashing her during therapy he needed to hear something positive. With his own memories so muddled, his father was the only logical place to turn.

"I'd be happy to share every last memory." Ron smiled. "But I can't guarantee I won't slip a few good ones of me in there too."

Gil wrapped his fingers around the glass of ice water at his place setting and nodded. "Fair enough."

With enthusiasm seeping from his voice, Ron began. "The first time I saw your mother…"

_

* * *

_


	12. Chapter 12

"**Second Chances – Part 12"**

**August 9, 2005 (Day 109)  
****Crime Lab  
****Grissom's Office  
****9:44 p.m. **

Taking a seat behind his desk, Grissom heaved a heavy sigh as he stared at the photo frame in his hands. Lunch with his father had left him as vexed as his session with Dr Myers and the four hours of sleep he grabbed on the couch at home wasn't enough to restore his depleted body and exhausted mind.

During therapy he had to face the reality that his mother wasn't the saint he remembered; in fact he had to acknowledge she had been detrimental to him in several significant ways. At lunch he had to come to grips with the fact that his father hadn't always been a bad guy and admit that Ron was no longer the monster he had once believed.

While dealing with his new familial reality, Grissom went to his ENT appointment alone, instead of with Sara as planned. It was there that he finally received news that relaxed him instead of throwing him for yet another curve. The hearing test completed showed no change from the last one. It was wonderful news, but his excitement was short lived when he realized he couldn't throw his arms around Sara and tell her.

With Sara in mind and heeding Catherine's advice, he left the ENTs office and went shopping for a picture frame.

"Is that a picture frame you're holding?" Warrick inquired as he strolled into his boss's office.

"Hey, Warrick."

"Let me guess…it's of your champion cockroach racer." Smiling he took a seat.

"Good guess, but no."

"It's a _personal _picture?"

Grissom pulled the photo closer. "Uh…yes."

"Don't tell me you're _finally_ going to give Sara a little desk space along with your bug paperweights?" He lifted one of the aforementioned desk ornaments as an example. "You're getting conventional, Gris."

"Yeah." He nodded lightly and tried to mask the sadness in his voice. "I guess so."

Holding out his hand, Warrick prodded, "Are you going to let me see it or is it one of those risqué photos and for your eyes only?"

"No, it's quite traditional." Relenting, Grissom handed over the silver framed wedding photo wondering exactly how much Catherine had told Warrick about the current situation.

Admiring the picture, Warrick remarked, "You two clean up real well." Sliding some papers out of the way, he gently placed the frame on his boss's desk. "There you go. Now you're officially an old married guy. And as I understand it, if Sara has her way, the next photo you'll bring in will be of your little rug rat."

It was then Grissom realized either Warrick knew nothing of the fight or he was trying to be optimistic.

"Damn. What a difference a year makes, huh?" Warrick shook his head as he kicked back. "It seems like just yesterday that you were desperate to find Sara and I had to run that credit card search on her Visa to locate her."

The second Grissom heard the words he lit up. He had checked for activity on their joint Visa account but with his mental capacity reduced, he hadn't thought to search under her old Sara Sidle credit card number.

"Then you guys hooked up and it's been happily ever af…"

"I need to check on something," Grissom blurted in the middle of Warrick's sentence.

"Sure thing, Boss." Warrick relaxed in the guest chair while Grissom rushed out of the room.

Ten seconds after Grissom's abrupt departure, Catherine sauntered in and chuckled, "Were you smooth so he thinks it was his idea?"

Without turning to look at her, he replied in a sexy voice, "Baby, when aren't I smooth?"

**Jim Brass's Apartment  
1****0:44 p.m. **

Smoothing the Jasmine Vanilla massage oil over Heather's back as she lay topless in his bed, Jim grinned with delight. "How's that after a rough and tough evening at the dominion?" He fought the urge to shuck his clothes and slip under the covers with her.

In between moans she purred, "It's just what I need before I return for the next round at eleven-thirty. That Optometrist convention in town has us cracking our whips round the clock. Mmm…don't stop."

"Is that an order?" He teased as he drizzled another dose of oil over her glistening skin. "What else can I do for you tonight, My Lady?" He playfully inquired as he kneaded her knots. "Are there any other areas of your body that are needy?"

"Now that you mention it…" She groaned when Jim's doorbell buzzed and killed the moment. "Tell whoever is at the door that unless they're willing to lick my boots, they better beat it and let you get back to servicing me."

"I'm lovin' this mood of yours," He cackled. "After your submissive behavior in Vancouver, this is a nice change of pace."

The doorbell interrupted them once more.

Throwing a pillow at him, she snapped, "Why are you still here yakking?" Unable to keep up the ruse, she started laughing as she commanded, "Move your ass!"

Working the excess oil into his hands, he hustled out of the bedroom for the front door. Upon checking the peephole, he rolled his eyes and yelled back in the direction of the bedroom. "It's a needy little boy but don't get up, I can handle him."

"I heard that," Grissom barked from outside. "Open up, I need a signature."

Yanking open the door, Brass sighed, "Not a very good time."

Grissom's nose instantly picked up an out of place scent and out of habit he announced his findings. "Jasmine and Vanilla?"

"You like it? It's my new bubble bath," Jim quipped as he stepped outside to join Grissom and make it clear he wouldn't be invited in for a drink. "I got tired of plain old Mr. Bubble."

"She's in there," Grissom remarked in a tired voice.

"Yes, Einstein." Brass rolled his eyes. "And she's in charge tonight so make it snappy. If I piss her off, I'll be explaining why I have ligature marks on my wrists at tomorrow's staff meeting. What's up?"

"Uh…" Refocusing on the matter that brought him there, Grissom replied, "I'm concerned that Sara's old credit card might have been stolen from our home."

"Oh really." Brass couldn't contain his smile. "What makes you think that?"

He innocently and vaguely replied, "It's gone."

"Okay, sounds legit to me." Folding his arms across his chest, he asked, "How would you like to handle this crime?"

Holding up the proper paperwork, Grissom answered in a professional tone, "I'd like to run a search and see if there's been any activity on the card, but I need you to sign off on my request so no questions will be asked."

He took the form and the pen Grissom extended and quickly signed off. "And what kind of _action_ will you be taking if you find there's been activity?"

"Protocol would dictate me to investigate. I'll most likely feel compelled to track down the person using the card." Producing a second form, he calmly said, "To handle it properly I'll need some time. I'd like to volunteer to use personal time."

Brass snatched the vacation request. "What will you say to the perp using the credit card?"

"It's not about words, Jim…it's about action, remember?" Smiling, he retrieved the official forms and dropped the ruse. "Thank you. Oh, and if you happen to speak with Sara, I'd appreciate you not alerting her about her credit card being under investigation. I'd prefer to tell her myself."

"Deal, but only because you caught me in a submissive mood," He grumped as he retreated inside and shut the door yelling, "Coming, Sweetie!"

Rolling his eyes, Grissom tucked the papers into his jacket pocket. "I wonder if she's his lobster?"

**August 10, 2005 (Day 110)  
****Crime Lab  
****Layout Room  
****11:05 p.m. **

Alone with Warrick for the first time that evening, Greg decided to pop the question. "Can I ask you something kinda personal?"

"Shoot," Warrick replied as he continued taking blood spatter measurements from the sheet.

"Everyone knows what Catherine used to do for a living." Taking a step closer, he lowered his voice, "Does it ever bother you when people bring it up? I don't mean playfully joking about it…I mean being salacious."

"That's ancient history." Then he realized why Greg was asking and adjusted his answer. "But even if she just stopped dancing last month, like Tawny, it wouldn't bother me that she was a dancer. The salacious comments..." He looked up from the sheet. "…those piss me off. But it has nothing to do with my relationship with Cath or the fact that she was a dancer. I get ticked because they're just plain degrading. I don't like when guys talk shit about a woman."

"You ever get in someone's face about it?" Greg inquired as he worked on his end of the sheet.

"Hell yeah." Returning his eyes to the bloody sheet, he chuckled, "But that's where it ended, you know what I'm saying? Unlike you, I've never had to actually touch someone to get them to shut up. Then again, I'm a little more intimidating than you, Greggy."

"Ah…yeah."

In a fraternal tone, he advised, "If Tawny is half as hot as Catherine makes her sound, then you gotta work on your stare down because guys are gonna be checking out your woman. When they do…it's your job to let them know they crossed the line." Suddenly he laughed again. "Your first step…putting lifts in your shoes so you can actually stare _down_ some dudes."

Sighing, Greg moved his ruler. "I know….I know…I need to hit the gym more. I need broader shoulders."

"Nah, seriously, it's more about attitude than latitude." Glancing over at his co-worker, he teased, "Your mom is petite and she scared the crap out of Catherine and Grissom when she glared at them over the lab explosion. See…it should be in your genes, man. You just need to tap into your inner Scandinavian badass."

Greg took the advice to heart. "Tap into my inner Scandinavian badass and then channel it into an effective stare down." He nodded rapidly enough to disturb his severely sprayed hair. "I'll work on that at home in the bathroom mirror."

"Hey, if you want to see it in practice, come with me to pick up Lindsay from school one day. I've got those teenage boys so afraid of me they'll think twice before even holding her books. If your kid turns out to be a girl, trust me, you better have the stare down mastered before she hits puberty."

"I really hope it's a boy," He replied in a shaky voice.

"You'll still need it perfected because you'll have to teach him. Don't worry, I'll work on it with you." Warrick stood up and reached for his clipboard. "Now let's lighten up this conversation and discuss the perks of living with an ex-dancer who knows how to handle herself around a pole."

"Cool! Let me turn down the CD player and…" Greg froze in his tracks in response to Warrick's death glare.

Narrowing his gaze further, he warned in a low growl, "Nobody turns down Alicia Keys."

His arms in the air, Greg slowly backed away from the CD player. "Sorry."

Warrick burst out laughing. "I'm just messing with you, man. That was _THE_ look."

"OH!" Greg relaxed. "I thought you really were…good one." Relieved, he reached for the volume control.

"Hey!" Warrick snipped. "I was serious about Alicia."

"Right."

**LVPD  
****Fraud Division  
****11:32 p.m. **

Wild with anticipation, Grissom paced behind Lucy Swain's desk waiting for her to access Sara's credit card information. He knew the ease with which Brass signed off on the request had nothing to do with catching him in a submissive mood. If Sara had told him not to help, he wouldn't have, which meant…she wasn't opposed to being found.

"Just give me another minute to type in the information from the warrant," Lucy informed her impatient guest. "You're wearing a hole in the floor."

"Sorry." Flashing a polite smile Grissom said, "I appreciate you giving this request priority."

"Ugh." Lucy griped, "I had a credit card stolen last year and it sucked. Turned out to be two teenage girls. Ran up four-thousand dollars in less than an hour." She feverishly typed as she spoke. "We caught them of course. Their daddies were so shocked to find out their precious little girls were criminals."

"Teenagers," He remarked because it was the only word he recalled hearing while he continued to pace.

"So tell your wife not to feel bad, it happened to me and I work in Fraud."

"I'll be sure to tell her." Closing his eyes for a second he focused on the sound of Sara's voice and the memory of her smile. How far away did she flee, he wondered? Maybe she was right around the corner holed up in one of the resorts.

"Oh yeah…there's activity," Lucy announced. "Looks like the thief decided to take a little vacation courtesy of your wife." Turning her computer screen toward Grissom she instructed, "Check this out."

Throwing on his glasses, he leaned in for a look and couldn't believe his eyes.

Lucy sighed, "Tahoe…the perfect place to escape the heat of Las Vegas."

America West Airlines – Las Vegas

Hertz Car Rental - Reno Airport

Shoreline Cabins - North Lake Tahoe

Tahoe Tommy's - North Lake Tahoe

Damon's Grill – North Lake Tahoe

Tahoe Tommy's – North Lake Tahoe

"Talk about leaving a breadcrumb trail, huh Grissom? I don't think it will be hard to find the perp."

"Yeah…" He replied through a smile. She picked Tahoe for a reason and he knew the message she was sending wasn't, _find me and_ _say you're sorry_, it was, _you have a second chance to make everything right so when you find me, you'll need to prove that you've changed since the first time you were here. _"…she made it real easy."

"How do you know it's a _she_?"

Grinning, he replied, "Lucy…I'm the best profiler in the state, remember?" He helped himself to her computer. "I need to print this."

Rolling her chair away, she let him have all the room he needed. "I'll cancel the card when you're done printing."

"No, don't cancel it!" He blurted while clicking the print button.

"What?" Lucy was perplexed by the request. "Why?"

"Because it will alert her and I'd rather go for the element of surprise." His heart racing, he tore off the printout.

"Gotcha," Lucy replied to thin air as she noticed Grissom was already halfway down the hall.

Stuffing the printout in his pocket with one hand, Grissom yanked out his cell phone with the other.

**Shoreline Cabins  
****11:41 p.m. **

Having written everything she needed to write and having read every piece of reading material she found, Sara was curled up on the couch aimlessly flipping through the TV channels to pass the time.

A year ago this lifestyle was typical, but now, after enjoying the perks of cohabitation, the self-imposed solitude was unnerving. So, when the phone rang, she lunged for it, nabbing it on the first ring. "Hello."

"Hey, you answered on the first ring instead of waiting for the secret code." Brass teased, "You sound a little desperate. Are you getting cabin fever?"

"Something like that," She replied in a lighthearted tone while turning off the TV. "I'm feeling really good about something I accomplished and I didn't have anyone to tell so…"

"So you were hoping it was your husband calling."

She didn't want to admit it but yes, she wished it had been Gil. Her fortitude was crumbling and she found herself fighting the urge to pack up and head home. "Have you spoken to him lately?" Maybe a few more cryptic messages would be enough to renew her commitment to stay put and let him come to her.

"About an hour ago."

"And…" She chuckled. "Come on, you know the drill by now. Tell me what he said."

"You sound so much better, Sara."

"I am better." Sliding further down on the couch, she breathed easy. "Solitude has a way of forcing issues to the surface. It allowed me to deal with some stuff I've been avoiding for too long. Now I feel…unburdened." She sighed, "Well, except for one burden of course, but I'm very hopeful that will work out too…and soon."

"They say women have a sixth sense about this stuff, so I'm sure you're right."

"Yeah? I don't think I have that gift," She scoffed. "Do you have any idea how many times over the years I was certain Grissom was coming to his senses? You know how that went."

"Point taken."

"So…you still haven't answered my question." Sliding off the couch, she paced the room. "What did he say?"

"The thing is…I was rather indisposed at the time so I didn't have time to chat with him."

"The mystery woman?" She grinned as she puttered around the cabin. "I forgot about her. Come on…is it serious? I'm bored, give me details."

"Okay…Grissom asked for some time off."

Instantly forgetting her original line of questioning, she shrieked, "He did?"

"Yep. Made it official with a vacation request form and everything. Maybe he's going to try your approach and use time and solitude to gather his thoughts."

"How much time did he ask for?"

"Three days. Oh hey, I've got to grab my pager. I'll check in with you tomorrow, Sara."

"Okay," She replied in a distant voice as she clicked off the phone and began obsessing over her husband's possible plans and how she would react to each scenario.

**August 10, 2005 (Day 110)  
****Crime Lab  
****Break Room  
****6:42 a.m. **

Warrick and Catherine were sitting on the couch rehashing the details of the Stenelli case over coffee when Greg walked in with Tawny by his side. "We've got a visitor," He merrily announced while clipping the visitor badge on one of the loops of her low rise denim mini skirt.

Knowing it was her partner's first encounter with the blond bombshell who was wearing a tight red blouse over a fitted white tank, Catherine turned to catch Warrick's reaction. "Easy there…you can put your eyes back in your head now."

"Hi, Catherine! Nice to see you again!" Tawny enthusiastically greeted while bounding into the room. "And you must be Warrick Brown." Having been warned about the _no personal space violations in the lab_ _rule_, she politely extended her hand. "I'm so happy to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

Standing up, Warrick shook the bubbly girl's hand. "Probably not as much as I've heard about _you_. Nice to finally put a face to your name." Smiling, he thought…more like a name and a face to the body Greg described in every detail a few weeks back. One glance at Tawny and he knew Greg was really going to have to work on acquiring _The Look_.

Catherine tossed her arm around the giddy girl, strolling her away from Warrick and towards the coffee pot. "How about a nice cup of lab brew?"

"Sorry…" She patted her belly and blurted, "No caffeine for baby Sanders."

Nick couldn't have stepped into the room at a better time. "Did your girlfriend just call you a baby, Greggo or are congratulations in order?" Now he wouldn't have to pretend not to know. "I'm assuming this is the lovely Tawny you've told us so much about."

"Oops." Tawny covered her mouth as she glanced over at Greg. "Sorry, Sweetie."

"It's okay." Greg shrugged. "Nick's part of the family."

"Congratulations, Man." Nick grabbed his buddy's hand and gave it a firm shake. "And Tawny…" He quickly crossed the room and threw his arms around her. "Welcome to our dysfunctional family." As he embraced her he confirmed…damn those aren't D cups, they're D plus!

Giggling from the brotherly bear hug, Tawny said, "Greg told me personal space violations weren't allowed in the lab."

"That's right, Stokes," Greg glared at Nick. "You uh…can let go of my girlfriend now."

Nick backed off, chuckling, "Sorry man."

Warrick swooped in with a pat on the back for his star pupil. "Nice stare down, Greg. I was feeling the Scandinavian badass."

"Cool…" Greg beamed with delight. "…I thought I was channeling."

Tawny gawked at her man, "_Scandinavian badass_?"

When Grissom entered the room, he shouted over the din, "Did I miss someone's birthday again?"

"Mr. Grissom!" Tawny forgot about her promise not to maul others and jumped at the chance to thank her savior with an overpowering embrace and words to match. "I _loved _therapy! It was so _freeing_! Thank you _so_ much! You're the best!"

Accustomed to the traditional Tawny greeting and grateful that someone was happy to see him, Grissom didn't bristle from the physical assault. "I'm glad it worked out for you."

Nick folded his arms across his chest and teased Greg, "I see how this works…only the boss gets to enjoy your perky girlfriend's assets. Interesting way to suck up, Sanders. Maybe Gris will finally stop yelling at you now."

Warrick and Nick continued to taunt Greg while Catherine, the ever-observant one, noticed something shocking…not only was Grissom tolerating Tawny's personal space violation, he was actually _returning_ her embrace. "Now that's progress," She mumbled under her breath while thinking, between Tawny's glowing endorsement of the wonders of therapy and Grissom's sudden comfort level touching an acquaintance, this Dr. Myers must be a miracle worker!

"Oh sorry!" Tawny jumped back and whispered as she moved to join her boyfriend in the corner of the room, "Greg told me not to touch anyone while visiting the lab."

"That's sound advice." Grissom smiled as Tawny returned to Greg's side. "There are a lot of lonely guys working here." Then he motioned to Catherine as he stepped into the hallway. "I need to speak with you for a moment."

Strutting over, she joked, "Don't expect a hug because my girls aren't up for following Tawny's D cups."

"You know she's over friendly that's why she pounces on me every time you see us together."

"Yeah, that and she worships the ground you walk on. You should have heard her talking about you over coffee with me yesterday." Leaning against the wall, Catherine grinned, "She considers you a surrogate father. How old does that make you feel?"

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he replied, "I must be looking better if you're giving me crap."

"You do." She studied his eyes. "What's up?"

"I've requested the next three nights off and I would appreciate it if you would supervise the shift. Carlos from Swing wants more hours and he will work for you."

Pleased that the end of the crisis was near, Catherine sighed, "Where is she?"

Cocking his head and smiling, he broke the news. "Tahoe."

"Nice."

"Yeah."

"Do you have a plan?" She nosed. "Because don't think it's going to be easy like last time."

"I think I have a plan," He bashfully admitted. "I think it's a good one too."

"Oh damn it." Catherine threw her arms around him. "I have to wish you good luck. Just don't you dare compare my rack with hers."

"Catherine…" He accepted the hug and returned it. "She thinks of me as a father figure, so I assure you, I'm not assessing her rack when she hugs me."

"You're lucky you returned my hug because if you returned hers and not mine…"

"Hey now!" Brass shouted as he walked down the hall. "No one told me it's swap partners day. I want to play!"

Stepping back, Grissom raised his brow at Jim. "But you're already playing."

Brass broke into an evil grin. "Look who's feeling better. So when are you leaving for _cough Tahoe cough_, genius."

Utilizing Jim's favorite bait and switch technique, Grissom replied, "You haven't met Greg's girlfriend Tawny yet. She's in the Break Room." He pointed. "The hot blond wearing the little skirt and giggling."

"Out of the way folks," Brass yelled as he tore into the Break Room. "Sanders! I need an introduction."

"Smooth," Catherine said approvingly.

"I absorbed that trick from him." Grissom checked his watch. "Shift is over and I need to get home. Thanks for covering…for everything…I…"

"Go on…" Nudging him, she groaned, "…get out of here before you get sappy like your wife in those silly little love notes she writes 'ya."

"Yeah…" He nodded while walking away. "Exactly."

Like a proud mom, she watched him until he disappeared. Then sighing, she re-entered the Break Room to rescue Tawny who had obviously made the mistake of hugging the Assistant Director.

"Okay Jim, back away from the blonde!"

Laughing, Brass held up his hands. "I was merely welcoming her into our dysfunctional family."

Greg snipped, "That's what Nick said."

"And where do you think Nick gets his lines from?" Brass pointed to himself. "The master. Isn't that right, Stokes?"

"Yes, Boss." Nick tipped his non-existent cowboy hat.

Taking Tawny by the hand, Greg led her out of the room. "Nick, I'm going to give her a quick tour and then take her to breakfast across the street. Then I'll be back to put in another eight hours to help out your shift."

"Nice meeting you all." Tawny waved as Greg hurried her out of the room.

Nick grabbed a twenty from his wallet and called out, "Here…breakfast is on me. Congrats again Papa Sanders." The guilt of sizing up Tawny's rack was working on him. "Enjoy breakfast."

Brass stood gaping like a fish.

Warrick placed a supportive hand on the big boss's shoulder. "I know…_shocking!_"

"What the f…" Brass shook his head. "Did Sanders find a lamp with a genie inside?"

"You think you're shocked," Catherine guffawed, "Wait 'til he takes her to Trace and Kevin finds out that Greg's straight."

"No shit." Warrick knew first hand how bad Kevin took that kind of news.

Returning to the room, Nick let out a cowboy yelp. "Damn, just think how big those puppies are gonna get when she's breast feeding!" Hustling to the coffee pot, he shared his thoughts. "You know, I've heard about plenty of women getting pregnant to trap a guy, but my friends…I think we have the first case of a guy trapping a girl by impregnating her."

Already on overload, Brass blurted, "She's having his kid!"

After sipping from his mug, Nick pondered, "I wonder what he'll ask from the genie for his third and final wish?"

Catherine had no problem coming up with an answer. "Duh…for Mama Sanders to approve so he gets to keep her!"

**DNA Lab  
****7:06 a.m. **

Greg held open the door for Tawny to step inside. "This is where I used to work as a DNA Lab Tech before I switched to CSI."

Max was just wrapping up for the day when he spied a bodacious babe. "Heaven called earlier and said they were missing an angel…and here she is."

"Does that line ever work for you, because it never worked for me?" Greg chuckled, "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Tawny."

"Nice to meet you." Max held out his hand and sighed. "How did Sanders find you before I did?"

"Mr. Grissom set us up," She replied while shaking hands.

"Wow…" Max didn't recall that service mentioned in the Employee Handbook. "How many years do I have to work for Grissom before he helps me find a gorgeous woman?"

"Sorry pal…it's a CSI right of passage thing."

"Ah." Max grabbed his briefcase. "You couldn't pay me to do your job, Sanders. Way too dangerous and too disgusting. Nice meeting you, Tawny." He flashed a bright smile. "And I stand by my original statement…any woman who can put up with Greg has to be an angel."

"Nice meeting you, Max." As soon as he was gone, Tawny turned to Greg. "Everyone is so nice here. Hodges really is an exception."

"Yeah." Greg grabbed a sterile swab. "Okay, open up and let me grab a sample. Then, as promised, I'll be able to run it and bring home a report to show you your DNA profile."

**The Grissoms'  
****7:22 a.m. **

After kicking off his shoes, Grissom reclined against the pillow and blanket he had left on the couch the day before and closed his eyes. Exhaustion was not the right state to be in when he made his move, so he would force himself to get some rest.

Last night, once he found out Sara was in Tahoe, he called Southwest Airlines to check flight times to Reno, fully prepared to drive to the airport and hop on the next one. But when he took a seat behind the wheel of his car, he changed his mind.

He had already shown up groveling on Sara's doorstep once in his lifetime and he didn't think it wise to take the same pathetic route. By now, if she felt anything like he did, one look and all would be forgiven and a quick, emotional decision was the last thing he wanted or felt she deserved.

No, a different approach was needed. One that showed action had been taken.

As his breathing relaxed and sleep loomed on the horizon, he envisioned the way things would go this time...

**The Egg Stop  
****7:31 a.m. **

Drizzling syrup over her short stack of pancakes, Tawny sweetly said, "Greg, thanks for inviting me to come to work and meet everybody. Every time I hear you tell someone I'm your girlfriend it makes me feel a little more legit."

He was surprised to hear she still had doubts. "Sweetie, I told my mom about you and I'm bringing you to meet her next month. It doesn't get more legit than that. I've _never_ done that with another girl." He chuckled, "Or guy as Kevin from Trace would have you believe."

"Oh my god! That guy was so bummed to find out you were straight!" She chuckled into her pancakes. "And then he still held out hope that I was just your beard!"

"Next thing you know people will think I got you pregnant on purpose to prove I'm not gay." Dashing hot sauce on his omelet he laughed hysterically…until he realized Tawny wasn't laughing with him. "What? Oh come on you don't really think that, do you! You think I had something to prove?"

"Umm…well…" She chomped on her bottom lip just long enough to get him going. "Gotcha!"

"Nice bluff. Maybe you should play a little poker while I'm covering day shift." He drove his fork into his eggs. "While I didn't have anything to prove, I'll admit I'm impressed with my _outstanding_ virility…" He winked, "One take is all it took."

Tawny raised her glass of orange juice. "Must have been the _Scandinavian badas_s sperm in you."

"Yeah…and most people think Scandinavians are great hockey players, not swimmers."

**The Grissoms'  
****11:26 a.m. **

In the distance he heard his name.

"Gil…"

Tossing and turning on the couch he fought to open his eyes.

"I'm home," Sara sang out. "I couldn't wait another minute."

"Sara?" He groggily replied as his eyes fluttered open. "But…" When she took a seat on the edge of the couch he burst into a radiant smile. "I was supposed to come to you."

"I know." She heaved a heavy sigh in his direction. "But you didn't. Apparently you were too busy _napping_." Her voice turned icy. "So much for you being a man of _action_."

Stunned by her presence and her harsh tone, he groveled, "You don't understand…"

"That line sounds familiar," She scoffed. "Isn't that what I tried to tell you a thousand times when you were screaming at me the other day?"

He couldn't believe this was really happening. "Please…if you give me a chance to explain…"

"I'm pretty sure I said that one several times too and it didn't get me anywhere." Turning her eyes to the ceiling she huffed, "I really thought you would get it right this time."

"I had a plan!" He pleaded. "I had it all figured out…I just needed a little more time to work on it and I was tired because…"

The alarm sounding on her wristwatch halted his words and he watched in horror as she pointed at the digital time. "See…you're late."

"No!"

The buzzing got louder.

"Sara! Please!"

Panting, he bolted upright on the couch and realized it was _his_ watch buzzing. It was his wake up call. So was the nightmare he just had.

Throwing his feet to the floor, he took off for his office.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

"**Second Chances – Part 13"**

**August 10, 2005 (Day 110)  
****Shoreline Cabins  
****6:17 p.m. **

Enjoying her daily run in the cool fresh air, Sara lost track of time and it wasn't until she came to rest on the shore of the lake that she glanced at her watch. Soon the sun would be setting on another lonely day and still no word from Gil.

Brass said he had given him three days off and now one was almost over. It's okay, she assured herself. It's a good thing. He's taking his time and thinking things through. I don't want him to rush.

Finding a boulder, she took a seat and watched the water lap against the shore. Who am I kidding, she chided. I want him here as soon as possible! More pathetically, I know all he'll have to do is look at me the right way and confirm he's thought things through and is going to therapy and I'll forgive him. After five days, a lot of deep thinking and the realization that we both still love each other and would never intentionally hurt one another…I miss him so much. Hell, I don't even know if I will give him a chance to talk.

Sliding off the rock, she picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake. Damn…why hasn't he called? Maybe he called while I was out running?

Remembering the lack of technology at the cabin, she realized Gil couldn't leave her a voicemail. Assuming he had figured out where she was, the only way he could leave a message would be to call the reservation line and leave it with Becky Knolls, the cabin owner who lived at the end of the road. With that thought in mind, Sara took off jogging toward the cabins.

A few minutes later, when she rounded the curve of the road, she saw someone sitting on her cabin steps. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes focused on the figure and determined it was a male, but a few paces later, she realized it was a total stranger, not her husband.

As she approached, the stranger, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, smiled at her. "Are you Sara Grissom?"

Noting that he was holding a large envelope, paranoia and fear overwhelmed her. "Are you a processor server?"

"No," He shook his head chuckling. "You're the second person to ask me that today. I'm with a courier service. Just making a routine delivery."

"Then I'm Sara Grissom." Breathing out, she took another step closer. Relieved her husband hadn't suddenly had a change of heart and decided to send divorce papers or file a restraining order, she accepted the pen the messenger was holding. "So, who sent me something?"

Glancing at his clipboard, he replied, "Gil Grissom, Las Vegas, Nevada." The man held up the envelope and pointed to the front door. "There's a box too."

Her curiosity mounting as fast as her pulse, she quickly signed the courier's delivery confirmation sheet and snatched the envelope. "Thanks."

"Have a good evening," He announced as he watched his customer scurry up the cabin steps, grab the box and disappear inside.

Once inside, Sara forced air in her lungs and searched for the proper place to review the contents of the delivery.

Deciding on the overstuffed chair, she took a seat and tore open the envelope. When she peeked inside she saw a series of smaller envelopes, each labeled with a number. The thinnest envelope had a number one on it along with the words, read this one first.

The existence of multiple envelopes and a box immediately signaled that Gil had indeed taken some time to formulate his thoughts and she was thrilled.

_Dear Sara, _

_Thank you for providing a way for me to find you and giving me hope that you wanted to be found. _

_You may be wondering why I'm writing to you instead of showing up on your door to tell you what I've learned and how I feel. One word sums up my reasoning…respect. I didn't want to force anything on you by putting you on the spot. I've disrespected you too much already. _

_Do you remember our conversation in Colorado Springs when you took me to Garden of the Gods for a heart to heart? Wait…who am I kidding, you remember everything. In reference to my appeal to you after Tahoe you said, 'I showed up at your apartment, said the right things and because you loved me, you gave me a chance'. You deserved so much more than that Sara. You knew it yourself. You said you were adamant that you wouldn't give me another chance, but you caved in when I showed up at your door._

_This time I didn't want to show up and just SAY the right things to get you to cave in and disrespect yourself. I wanted to back my words by detailing the specific actions I've taken and the things I've learned that demonstrate I will treat you differently. That I will give you the respect you deserve. _

_This timeI don't want another chance just because you love me. I want another chance because you believe I'm worthy of one…that I am worthy of your love. _

_So, I decided to write everything down to give you an opportunity to consider what I'm saying, and in your own time, without any pressure from me standing in front of you, make a decision._

_If you're ready for what I have to tell you, open the box. _

Staring at the note, Sara whispered, "You had me at respect," while placing the note and envelope on the coffee table. Already pleased with her husband's thoughts, she was anxious to open the box and see what else he had to say.

Tugging at the layers of packing tape she yelped, "Damn it! I don't have time for this!" Flying out of the chair, she hurried into the kitchen to grab a knife. One quick slit later, the box was open and Sara was struggling to calm her breathing.

With the unsealed box in hand, she returned to the comfy chair. Peering inside, all she saw was a well wrapped object. "Great! More tape!"

Setting the box on the coffee table, she jumped out of the chair, retrieved the knife and returned. Layer by layer she snipped the tape and unfurled each piece of bubble wrap packing material. When the object's identity was finally apparent she gasped and cradled it in her hands.

It was the glass he had thrown…fully restored with a letter tucked inside.

Her lips slipped into a smile as her eyes welled. "Wallner lines can only be observed at the point of impact and if the point of impact is not preserved, then the glass must be reconstructed."

Pulling out the letter, her heart soared with delight. "I'm going to love where this is going."

_Sara, _

_Thank you for giving me a chance to explain my behavior even though I didn't extend you the same courtesy days earlier. Your generous heart is one of the things I love most about you. It's also something I never deserved to benefit from over the years. I exploited your generosity. I counted on you giving me chances when I didn't deserve them. So while I'm grateful for this opportunity, this time I want to earn your forgiveness. Please don't give it to me solely because it's in your nature. _

_We're both experts on fractured glass, Sara. _

_We know that fractured glass once was whole and then something impacted it, causing it to break. At work, the way we get answers from broken glass is to restore it and study it. We learn about causation by identifying the point of impact and the breaking force._

_That's what I did, Sara. I restored the fractured glass and then I studied it. Below are my findings: _

_The Point of Impact, while technically it was the south wall of our living room, was really your faith in me. I shattered it like I shattered the glass you're holding. I hurt you deeply. But I hope, like I've restored this glass, I can renew your faith in me. _

_The Breaking Force was my selfish tirade fueled by forty years worth of emotion I've kept locked inside me. It wasn't anything you did or said or didn't do. If you feel one ounce of guilt over your handling of the situation I implore you to purge it right now. _

_How can I be so sure about your innocence? Or more likely, how can you be sure that I'm not just absolving you in an effort to win you back? I can prove your innocence. I have a witness…my father. _

_After you left, I was angry so I went to see my father. I was certain he had tricked you into letting him into our house and had caused this whole mess. You see, it was very important for me to put the blame on him instead of you or me. I even had the audacity to accuse him of ruining my marriage. But my father lived up to the meaning of his name, Aaron, and shined light on the truth. Plato is quoted as saying, 'they deem him their worst enemy who tells the truth' and so it was…my worst enemy was telling me the last thing I wanted to hear. He told me the truth…your leaving was my fault. _

_My father also informed me that only reason you let him in the house was because you loved me. He told me how you cursed him at the door and fought to protect me from him. He said it wasn't until he mentioned his heart problems that you let him inside. You let him in to acquire additional information that you felt might save my life. As if that wasn't enough to make me feel terrible, he went on to inform me that the reason you let him stay was to listen to stories about me. Stories you were dying to hear because I don't openly share myself with you. _

_The truth hurts, Sara. And when I realized how right my father was, I couldn't stand to be in the same room with myself. When I looked in the mirror I only saw someone I despised. In those dark hours, I looked back and recounted all the times I denied you information or made you work to acquire personal details about me. Questions flooded my mind. Questions like, what kind of guy lets his wife ride a rollercoaster until she vomits rather than saying, 'Honey, I'll be more than happy to answer your questions if you stop riding'? What kind of guy makes his wife earn information about him when he knows she's just trying to understand and love him? _

_I did some heavy soul searching and when the totality of how I treated you over the past years finally hit me I sank deeper into despair. And just when I thought I couldn't feel any worse, I found the heartfelt letter you wrote while designing our baby's nursery. I read that letter over and over again to punish myself for ruining the most beautiful thing I ever had in my entire life…your love._

_It was in that moment, sitting in our bedroom, holding your love letter while I was filled with self-loathing, that I hit rock bottom. People say sometimes you have to hit the bottom before you can start climbing back up and that's exactly what I did, Sara. Only I didn't do it alone. _

_First I had to lean on a friend. Catherine literally came to my rescue when she found me passed out at home on the bathroom floor from a severe migraine. The pain was so intense it temporarily blinded me. The symbolism wasn't lost on a literary guy like me. Half blind is how I've been walking around most of my life...keenly observant of everything and everyone around me but unable to see the truth about myself. _

_Thanks to an abundance of medication given to me at the hospital, I was able to sleep off the physical pain, but when I woke, the emotional pain of what I had done to you was still there. In that moment I felt so unworthy of you I couldn't imagine ever looking you in the eye again._

_Luckily I had Catherine by my side to lift me up once again. She pointed out that walking away from you and our marriage because I didn't feel worthy was a selfish choice... a coward's way out. How could I argue with her considering what I've thought about my father doing the same thing to his wife and marriage? So, since walking away to keep you safe from me wasn't an option, I decided to try a different route. I decided to become a man worthy of your faith. _

_So, where does a guy begin when he needs to rebuild himself? I decided to approach it the same as fractured glass…study the cracks and trace their origins. I went back to the beginning…the point of impact…which for me was my relationship with my mother and what she taught me under the guise of protecting me. _

_As soon as I started analyzing the things my mother had said to me as a child, I quickly realized I had serious issues to tackle, issues bigger than I could handle on my own. So, I took the advice I had given to you and Tawny…I went to see Dr. Myers. _

_I was terrified walking into that office, Sara. I'm so proud of you for doing it and for sticking with it every week, month after month. It's difficult confronting your past. The mind is an amazing tool and its ability to shade and color our memories to protect us is incredible. It was rough talking about things and facing the truth. But I overcame my fear because I want to be a better man for you. _

_Once I felt comfortable in the office, I asked some tough questions. Things like, what kind of a guy_ _avoids emotional entanglement to the extreme that he sets up a barter arrangement to fill his need for companionship, rather than try to develop sincere human attachment with a woman?_

_You know Dr. Myers…she didn't give me the answer, I had to work for it. This was my answer…he's a guy so afraid of being hurt or betrayed that he'd rather experience no emotion than risk feeling pain. _

_I'm sure, from your therapy experiences, you can guess where she went with that answer. "Why do you think you avoided emotionally connecting for so many years?" It's going to take a while for me to work through those issues in depth but I have a basic theory and I'm committed to following through until I comprehend every last detail. _

_I made a few more discoveries that I'd like to share. I know on the surface I've been there for you, Sara, but I haven't freely given myself to you like a husband should. I've held too much back and I don't want to live like that anymore. _

_After some soul searching and one session with Dr. Myers I know my mother's lessons were wrong. You don't avoid getting hurt by denying emotions, you hurt yourself by not experiencing any and you hurt those who care about you in the process. That's what I was doing to us for years, Sara. I thought it stopped when we got together but I was still hurting you by denying you information and the powerful emotions a couple should share. _

_I think, based on our family histories, we're both afraid of powerful emotions. We fear feeling out of control because we've spent our lives trying to control ourselves and the environment around us so we could feel secure. In the past, whenever a strong emotion surfaces, good or bad, our instinct is to extinguish it as quickly as possible or to run from it. One of us has run every time we've had a disagreement. When we reunite all we want to do is put the emotions behind us and not look back._

_Another example I'm reminded of is our first kiss and how the passion overwhelmed us. Instead of letting the passion take over, we both thought it best to go out to lunch. To this day, we've never let powerful emotions consume us and escalate into passion. We always discuss or plan our love making and while it's always wonderful, I think we've missed out on something. I think I'm still reluctant to connect emotionally like I've been all my life. I want to be more spontaneous…more alive. Remember when you wanted me to join you in the tub? My god…you had to coerce me into a bubble bath with you. What was I thinking? I should have jumped in with my clothes on! _

_Again, I'll quote you from your speech in Colorado Springs. You said, 'when we started our relationship, we were a dysfunctional couple because of the years of playing games and because we never were in real relationships with other people'. You said,' we basically took our old relationship and added the romance'. You were dead on. _

_The new version of our relationship worked for a while and then one day you asked for more, you wanted some symmetry. I responded the next day by asking you to legally marry me. Looking back, I realize that was a copout on my part. Once again I was using a gesture to allay your concerns. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled we married that day. I just wish I could have given you my name and what you were really asking for... all of me._

_We both know fractured glass can be restored, but never to its original state. Metaphorically speaking that's a good thing for us. I don't want to go back to the old relationship. The glass is forever changed and so are we…but we've changed for the better. _

_Dr. Myers has this quote hanging on her wall I'm sure you've seen. It's by Maya Angelou. It says, "You did what you knew how to do. And when you knew better, you did better." That's how I feel, Sara. I already know a little better and I intend to further my education. As I do, I plan to keep doing better. _

_Going forward please believe I want symmetry with you. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve for you. I want to be open and tell you anything you want to know. I want to love you with unchecked passion. I want to give you 100 percent of Gil Grissom. Do you think you can handle all of me? _

_Sara, if you think you can handle all of me and that's what you want, then open the envelope marked number two_

Gushing with excitement over his commitments and his hidden message, 'I love you, Sara!' she jumped out of the chair and paced the room. He had fulfilled the wish she wrote in her journal…_find it in your heart to work on you for me, _and all she wanted to do was take him in her arms and show him how much it all meant to her.

Hurrying back to the coffee table, she snatched envelope two. What more could he say, she wondered?

_I LOVE YOU, SARA!_

_(Just in case you didn't see my hidden message and because I wanted to say it again.)_

_Thank you for wanting 100 percent of Gil Grissom, even though you don't know exactly what to expect. You're in good company though because I don't know what to expect either. I'm looking forward to finding out together. _

_Thank you for believing in my words. Now I'm going to outline some actions I've taken/will take so you can feel even more comfortable with my promise to be the man you deserve. Think of this document as a contract I will not breech. _

_1. I signed up for an Anger Management program starting this Saturday. I promise to pay attention and make sure I understand everything there is to know so I never again lose it with you like I did on Sunday. _

_2. I am officially a patient of Dr. Myers. Starting next week, I'll be seeing her every Tuesday and Thursday morning. I promise to work hard so I can make as much progress as quickly as possible and no matter how challenging it is, I won't quit. _

_3. I went for my hearing test (by the way, it went great. No change from last time!) and I have my next one scheduled and entered into my calendar with no intention of 'accidentally' missing it. _

_4. I will remain committed to the healthy lifestyle changes outlined by Dr. Ortiz. I will continue to be the kind of guy who passes on the cream for his coffee. _

_5. I promise to answer ANY question you ask me (open envelope number three now) _

Thrilled by the contract and its implications, Sara raced to open envelope three. Inside were two airline vouchers and a letter.

_My darling wife, _

_Enclosed are two airline vouchers for us to fly to Los Angeles at a time of your choosing (and lab conditions permitting of course). While in LA, I will take you on the official Gil Grissom tour. _

Sara squealed with delight as she continued reading. "Yes!"

_You will see everything…my birthplace, the house I grew up in, my schools, the beach I combed for all things dead. You name it, I'll take you to see it. Well…I can't show you where I used to work because you know they're number 2 in the country right now and we're number three, but as soon as we're back on top…I'll fly you out again!_

_I LOVE YOU, SARA!_

_(I felt compelled to work that in again)_

_Please open envelope number four._

Reaching for the fourth one, Sara screamed, "I hope you shrunk yourself and I find you in there!" Although she knew his decision to write instead of showing up to say all this was the right thing to do, her body craved his arms and her eyes desired his smile.

_By now I hope you see why I couldn't show up on your door and say everything I needed to say and everything you deserved to hear. I think we both know I would have bungled it and you never would have let me finish. _

_Okay, it's time for the moment of truth. _

_I have…_

…_poured out my heart and soul_

…_shown you I analyzed and understand my mistakes_

…_taken accountability_

…_made promises_

…_taken action_

…_detailed a contract to ensure my progress continues_

_So now the only thing left for me to say and ask is this..._

_I'm sorry, Sara. Will you please give me another chance? _

_ONLY if you're absolutely certain you're forgiving me because I understand what I did wrong…_

_ONLY if you believe I have changed and will continue to evolve… _

_ONLY if you're giving me another chance because I've earned it…_

_ONLY then...call my cell phone. _

_Love, _

_Gil _

Racing for the telephone, Sara tripped over a bunged up throw rug but it barely slowed her down.

With the cordless phone in hand, she dialed as she paced.

"Grissom."

"YES!" She shouted into the phone as she darted around the cabin. "Yes, I forgive you!" Emotion charged her voice. "Yes, I'll give you another chance. Yes, I believe you've changed and that you'll continue to evolve." Her speech quickened in time with her heart. "Yes, I want all 100 percent of Gil Grissom! I want to fly to LA with you. I want to know everything about you. I want to see that beautiful heart of yours on your sleeve." Exhilarated from the excitement, she blurted, "And I definitely want some of that unchecked passion you mentioned! I love you!"

"I love you too. Thank you for believing in me and giving me another chance."

Dropping onto the couch, she closed her eyes. "I've missed you so much." Her excitement turned to longing. "So much."

"I'm dying without you."

Opening her eyes she admitted, "I couldn't sleep in the bed here."

"I couldn't sleep in the bed at home."

"Perfect symmetry." Suddenly her eyes filled with tears. "This was so scary."

"I was terrified." His voice cracked. "I was terrified right up until you called. I'm so glad you called, Sara."

"I can't wait to…" A knock on the door distracted her. "Damn…I have to get the door." Brushing her tears, she stood and explained, "The cabin owner is really sweet and she checks on me twice a day. I believe she thinks I'm suicidal." Chuckling, she said, "It doesn't help that she always catches me crying. Now I'm crying tears of happiness and she's not going to believe me!" Walking to the door, she ordered, "While I'm talking to her you better get online and make some plane reservations, Mister! I want your ass on the next flight to Reno." Twisting open the doorknob she said, "I'll be waiting…" Her heart skipped a beat. "I don't believe it!"

Standing on the front porch with his cell phone to his ear, Grissom sweetly replied, "I knew if you forgave me I wouldn't be able to wait to take you in my arms, so I flew into Reno, rented a car, hired that messenger guy and then waited down the road hoping you'd call. Did I already mention I'm thrilled that you called?"

When their eyes locked, their phones dropped to the ground and they rushed into each other's arms.

Gripping her tight, Grissom whispered in her ear, "I was so scared I'd never get to hold you again."

"Don't let go," She pleaded while tears streamed down her cheeks. "I can't believe you're here. I hated every minute of this."

"Me too." His hands stroked her hair. "We're going to be okay."

"I know we are," She declared as she gazed into his watery eyes. "We're meant to be together."

"Sara…" His heart throbbed in his chest. "I…I'm feeling a dozen different things right now…" He cupped her damp face with his hands and suddenly his focus turned to her lips. Kissing her with his eyes he said, "Do you…"

"No, I don't want to go out for something to eat. I want to stay in," She goaded in a sultry whisper as she backed into the cabin with him in her grip. "I'm feeling a dozen different things right now too and I want to funnel all of that emotion into…" Her declaration was cut short by the crush of her husband's eager lips.

Everything about the series of voracious kisses tantalized him…the receptiveness of her mouth, the salty sweet taste of tears on her lips, the feel of her hands coursing over his aching body and their unrelenting momentum toward the couch.

"Yes," She purred in his ear as he drove his hands under her running crop top and peeled it over her head. "Right here, right now." In one sleek move she slipped her ponytail holder from her head, letting her hair cascade over her bare shoulders.

"I've never wanted you more, Sara," He groaned while authoritatively lowering her to the couch. Emotions pulsating in rhythm with his heart he blanketed her body with hungry kisses while she frantically worked open the buttons on his denim shirt.

After nights of loneliness, the fusion of their flesh electrified their bodies and they gasped in perfect symmetry.

"I love you, Sara, "Grissom feverishly exhaled as he tossed his shirt to the floor. Lacing his fingers through her hair, he coaxed, "Let me hear you say it." His emotion-filled eyes melded with hers while he anxiously awaited her reply.

"I love you, Gil!" Giddy and breathless, she declared, "I'm loving the new you even more than the old you, and I thought he was one hell of a guy!" Grinning she slid her hands over his shoulders. "Now give me some of that unchecked passion you promised."

**Catherine's House  
****8:45 p.m. **

Wearing only the black Calvin Klein boxer briefs Catherine had bought for him, Warrick stood in front of the bathroom mirror shaving.

"So are they comfy?" Catherine asked as she popped out of the shower stall with a fluffy white towel cinched around her body.

"Yeah…" He dipped his razor in the hot water pooled in the sink. "…but they look a little tight don't you think?"

"Am I supposed to think that's a bad thing?" She grinned taking in the view. "No…I think they're just right."

"You're my boss at work tonight and at home you're dressing my ass…literally." He laughed as he popped the sink stopper out. "And not just one night, but three."

"You never know…" Running her fingers through her damp hair she said, "What if Grissom and Sara get so carried away they decide to extend their stay? They never did have a honeymoon. If they do that, I could end up bossing you around for a week."

"Well…" He took a minute to dry his face and then finished his thought. "You're being very optimistic. Sara could kick him to the curb and he'll be back at work tomorrow."

"Oh come on. Like you really believe that's gonna happen." Scoffing, she traded her towel for her robe. "You know it's going to work out." Laughing she said, "By now I'm sure they've kissed, made up and are working an advanced level crossword puzzle to celebrate."

Leaning against the counter, Warrick shook his head. "Coach Cath, shouldn't you tell them they're never gonna make a baby by doing crossword puzzles?"

Plugging in the blow dryer she joked, "Well, they could, as long as they're having sex _while _they're working the crossword puzzle. After all, they are big time multi-taskers."

"Ugh…see what you did. You made me picture that and it's not something I need to visualize." He cracked a devious smile. "Anyway, I bet the crossword puzzle is just for foreplay. You know…like geek porn."

"Yeah, all that talk of going 'Across' and 'Down' could really get a gal hot and bothered." Catherine seized with laughter. "OH! And think of the pent up tension that needs to be relieved when you do a whole puzzle but can't figure out one clue. I'm talking serious frustration that can only be released through _intense_ physical release."

"Damn!" Warrick stared gratefully at his lusty partner. "You can take the most boring thing and make it sound hot."

"Am I supposed to think that's a bad thing?" She purred. "Are you?"

**Shoreline Cabins  
****9:34 p.m.**

Snuggled up to her husband under the sheets of the lodge pole bed, Sara contentedly sighed, "Now that I know how comfortable it is, I'm _never_ leaving this bed."

"Oh yes you are." Brushing her tussled hair from her eyes, he explained, "I have to fly back on Friday night for my class on Saturday and there's **_no way_** I'm leaving Tahoe without you again."

Her eyes gleaming, she replied, "Why do you think I came here? I'm giving you a do-over."

Caressing her cheek, his tone softened. "I appreciate that more than I can express."

Brushing her fingertips over his chest she smirked. "Don't worry…you've expressed yourself more than enough tonight and…it…was…wonderful. I was definitely feeling 100 percent of you."

"It's great to know you feel that way." Propping on his elbow he returned her smile. "Because I thought it was wonderful too…the best ever…but…" He started laughing. "…I'm too tired and hungry to _express myself_ again tonight."

"You're tired?" She joined him in laughter. "I ran _five miles_ right before you showed up and ravaged me with your _unchecked passion_."

He playfully informed her, "That was _passion-fueled make-up lovin'_, Honey,"

"Ha! Where did you get that phrase?"

"I absorbed it from Greg," He replied nonchalantly. "He told me it's the reason he's looking forward to his first argument with Tawny. I didn't get it at the time..." Leaning in he grazed a kiss over Sara's smile. "…but now I do."

"Too bad all that emotion-packed love making won't be productive," She sighed. "I tested this morning and it's too early."

Surprised to hear the news, he pulled back and asked, "You brought your ovulation predictor kit with you when you were angry at me?"

"I honestly don't remember packing at all." Her radiant smile faded as she recalled her feelings. "It was on the counter and I must have thrown it in my bag in haste. But you know…everything happens for a reason. This morning when I woke I had this feeling things would work out today and…"

"So uh…" Smoothing his hand over abdomen, he quietly asked, "In spite of everything you still think we should…because I was thinking that you wouldn't want…"

"More than ever," She assured him as her smile returned. "This crisis forced a lot of things to the surface and we've both confronted serious issues that might have affected us as parents if they went unresolved. Besides, _when _I get pregnant this month, we'll still have nine months to get ourselves together. By the time the baby arrives I know we'll be healthier and happier than we've ever been. "

"I believe that too." Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips. "The release of my anger towards my father, and coming to terms with my parents' marriage will make me a better parent. I don't feel the pressure of their failure anymore and it feels great. I know I can be a great dad if I make the effort."

It thrilled her to hear his confidence on the subject. "So the Feasibility Study is back on, right?"

"Yes." Watching her with loving eyes he said, "I'm glad we didn't miss this month's opportunity."

"Me…" The gurgling of Sara's stomach interrupted the moment. "I did say I ran five miles before you arrived, right? I haven't eaten since breakfast. I may faint if I don't eat soon."

"Let's get you something to eat, Darling," He announced as he slipped out of bed and searched the floor for his clothes. "Oh yeah…everything is in the living room."

"Look somewhere within throwing distance from the couch," She giggled while wrapping the bed sheet around her. "In case you didn't notice, I got a little carried away."

Pausing in the bedroom doorway, he teased, "I _know _you were carried away by the passion because you didn't _freak out_ when we were on top of a rental cabin blanket that's been used by who knows how many people." Taunting her he said, "Remember the mood killing incident in Colorado Springs after we got back from dancing?"

"Did you _have _to bring that up! After what we did here, can you see _why_ I feel that way about guest blankets and hotel comforters?" She shivered. "We need to buy that blanket from the owner because I'm not leaving our DNA for posterity."

"I'm thinking we should buy the whole cabin," He announced, only half-joking, as he entered the living room. "It's a quick escape from Vegas and we need a place to decompress. It can be part of my rehabilitation plan."

"It really is for sale! Did you see the sign?" Leaning in the doorway she glanced around. "How romantic would it be to buy the place where we first made passion-fueled make-up lovin'!"

"Very," He warmed to the idea from her enthusiasm. "And on a practical note, Mrs. Grissom, we could use the tax deduction."

"Right!" Following him into the living room, Sara started picking up clothes.

"Speaking of tax deductions…" Searching the area for his boxers, he remarked, "My father decided to make a hefty donation to your foster kids backpack charity."

"Really?" She tossed his boxers at him. "Here you go, Loverboy."

"Thank you." Winking, he quickly pulled them on then reached for his jeans.

"How much?"

"He's matching the fifty thousand I gave him and donating it all."

"A hundred grand!" She gasped. "That will take us to the next phase. Oh my god! This is great! Nick is going to flip!"

"I thought you would be ecstatic." He beamed with satisfaction as he pulled on his shirt.

"And you're okay with this? With your father…hey, I just realized you referred to Ron as your father."

"It's part of my therapy action plan." Sweetly, he kissed her cheek. "Proud of me?"

"Very."

"Now that I'm dressed, I'll run out to the car and grab my bag, while you start our shower."

"Sounds like a plan as long as there's no fooling around in the shower, because I'm famished! There's a grill about three miles from here that serves food late." As she walked away, her curiosity tweaked.

"Oh yeah…I saw it earlier." He headed for the front door.

"Hey, what were you doing while I was out running and your messenger was sitting on my front steps?"

"I was sitting in my car doing crossword puzzles to pass the time."

"Oh!" She exclaimed as she scampered to the kitchen clutching the sheet around her body. "That reminds me. I got stuck." Grabbing the newspaper from the table, she asked, "Four letter word, begins with 'o'…The Blue Moon of 60s baseball."

"O…D…O…M…John 'Blue Moon' Odom." Opening the door, he added, "He was a pitcher in the 60s."

"Yes! That's all I needed!" She hurried to fill in the remaining three squares. "I was really getting bothered by this clue and with no computer access…"

"And here I thought you were frustrated because you missed me."

"Aww…" Joining him in the open doorway, she threw her arms around his neck. "That's exactly why the puzzle frustrated me. If you were here I would have had the answer right away."

As their lips gravitated into a kiss, the cabin owner's voice echoed from the road. "I guess I didn't have check in on you tonight, Sara."

Sara tightened the sheet around her blushing body and replied, "I'll be just fine from here on out, Becky. Thanks."

"Great to hear."

"Yeah," they simultaneously exhaled while exchanging loving glances.

"Excuse me, Becky!" Leaving Sara on the porch, Grissom descended the stairs. "About your For Sale sign…"

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

"**Second Chances – Part 14"**

**August 11, 2005 (Day 111)  
****Crime Lab  
****6:46 a.m. **

Without an invitation, Warrick and Greg filed into Nick's office and occupied his guest chairs.

"This better be good news," Nick grumped without taking his eyes off the paperwork he was completing. "'Cause I'm having a shitty morning."

"Your morning just started," Greg cheerily reminded him. "And why do you have your cap on inside the lab?"

Warrick whispered to his buddy, "Receding hairline…don't go there, Greggo."

"Uh, no…" Nick threw down his pen. "In response to you, Greg…my morning started when I rolled off the couch at two o'clock in the morning and slammed my head on the freakin' coffee table." Ripping off his baseball cap he revealed the large bruise on his forehead. "This is why I'm wearing the cap. Satisfied?"

"Hold up." Warrick leaned forward in his chair. "Why were you sleeping on the couch?"

Rolling his eyes he replied, "Because I didn't care enough about _table linens_."

"Huh?" Warrick and Greg chimed.

Rubbing the black and blue lump on his forehead, Nick sighed, "Last night my fiancée wanted to discuss all this trivial wedding stuff and I wasn't in the mood. I wasn't in the mood because I spent the greater part of my day in a hotel room with a disemboweled prostitute." Sighing, he dropped back in his chair. "It was obvious that it meant a lot to Carrie so rather than telling her I wasn't up for it, I decided to BS my way through it to appease her. I thought I was doing a good job but then, all of a sudden, she blasted me for not caring about one of the most important days of our life. I was tired and frustrated…let's just say it really went downhill when I barked, 'oh hell, I don't care if the guests eat off paper plates on tables covered in cheap red and white plastic picnic cloths'."

"Damn." Warrick cringed at his pal's faux pas. "Are you _sure_ you fell off the couch and got that bruise? Or did she hurl a Bridal magazine at your head?"

"I've seen those magazines in the check-out line at the grocery store," Greg confirmed, "they're huge. Could easily have done the damage. Maybe we're looking at a case of battered-fiancé syndrome…BFS."

"You're laughing but we actually had a case like that once." Warrick nodded at Nick. "You worked it with me, remember? The bride-to-be accidentally killed her potential groom when she launched a paperweight and caught him in the temple."

"The paperweight was one of the choices for groomsmen gifts." Looking to his friends for empathy, he moaned, "How am I ever going to survive six months of this torture? All I want to do is _get married_. I don't want to devote six months of my life to talking about linens and flowers. I'm really starting to envy Gris and Sara's trip to the Little Chapel of the Flowers."

Greg offered the first words to pop in his head. "Maybe she's so ticked at you that she'll call off the wedding and you won't have to worry about it anymore."

"Thanks…that makes me feel a hell of a lot better," Nick snapped. "But enough about me, why don't we talk about what you're planning on doing about your situation, Mr. Optimism? You plan on making an honest woman out of Tawny?"

"Uh…" Swallowing hard, he tried to think of a good answer.

"What's that Sanders?" Nick huffed. "Hey, you pried into my life so turnabout is fair play. Tell me your plan, Man. Will you be debating between lilac and crimson napkins too, or are you going to have Elvis officiate at the drive-thru one afternoon and call it a day?"

After glancing at his watch, Warrick announced as he stood, "Shift's over and your personal lives are way too complicated for my taste. I'll see you around…that is, if your women don't kill you first." Chuckling, he strolled out of the room.

Slouching in his chair, Greg finally answered Nick's question. "I um…haven't figured everything out yet but I've come a long way. It was a hell of a shock…"

"How did you let this happen in the first place, Greg?"

"You looking for a Biology lesson or do you just want to hear me admit my irresponsibility so you can rub it in that I screwed up?" Straightening up in his chair, Greg continued, "Just because you and Carrie are the poster-children for traditional relationships doesn't mean…"

"Sorry." Scratching his head, Nick lightened up. "Sorry, I'm just feeling a lot of pressure from every direction. Sara being gone isn't helping. She's my right hand. Her and Gris better be working out their differences and getting their asses back here pronto. Because if they…"

"Whoa…I had no idea." Greg's voice filled with concern. "I thought Sara was at a forensics conference and Grissom took some vacation time to surprise her? Are they…how bad is it?"

"Oh shit." Nick groaned. "Before I answer, I need to take a second and add that blurt to the list of things I blew so far today."

"I really hope Grissom and Sara are doing okay."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****9:14 a.m.**

Grissom, wearing his favorite blue pajama bottoms and a grey t-shirt, was conserving his energy by lounging in the cabin's cushy bed working a crossword puzzle. The suspense wouldn't last much longer, any minute now Sara would emerge from the bathroom and he would find out whether or not he had the day off.

Last night, after a relaxing meal at Damon's Grill and a quick trip to the supermarket, they returned to the cabin rejuvenated and ready for some heart to heart conversation.

To set an intimate mood, Grissom built a toasty fire while Sara made a cozy nest in front of it out of bed pillows and the three fresh blankets she purchased during their trip to the store. There, in the warmth of the flames and the comfort of the DNA-free linens they freely shared everything they'd learned over the past four days.

To assure her husband that he did indeed fulfill her wishes and _earn _forgiveness, Sara presented Gil her journal of notes to him, including the letter asking that he take action and work on himself to be the man she needed. While he read the journal, she nestled against his chest and watched the flames whimsically dance in the fireplace. And when he was done reading, she slipped her arm around his waist and savored the companionship while they compared her letter's requests to his letters' promises. In the end they agreed it was a perfect match. _They _were still a perfect match.

Just after one a.m. they shut down the fireplace and hand in hand strolled to the bedroom to slide between the soft sheets of the lodge pole bed. Thrilled to have someone's arms to fall asleep in again, they met in the middle and Grissom wasted no time pressing his body to Sara's until they were perfectly spooned.

"Okay, General Grissom…" Sara called from the doorway of the bathroom at 9:21 a.m. "…are you ready for the morning report?"

Taking off his glasses, he glanced up and saw her wearing her fluffy pink robe and a smile. "Yes…"

Crossing the room, she announced, "You can tell the troops to stand down because the handy-dandy ovulation predictor indicates I'm still in the low-fertility zone." Slipping into bed, she warned, "The boys have the day off today, but they are expected to report for active duty tomorrow."

"I'll make sure they use the time wisely." Stuffing his pen inside the crossword book he tossed it aside.

"Speaking of time…" She craned her neck to see the digital clock on the nightstand. "We have about two hours before we have to be at the realtor's office."

Grinning, he replied, "We know what we _can't _do in those two hours, so what would you like to do?"

"I'd like to take you on a little hike in the woods."

Laughing he said, "If you had said that four days ago I would have thought I wasn't coming back."

"Yeah…but now I just want to show you some really cool bugs."

After rolling out of bed he hurried for his suitcase. "Come on…what are you waiting for?" Appealing to her needs, he added, "How about I tell you about my first ant farm while we're hiking? It was one of the stories my father told me when I had lunch with him the other day. Unless of course you have a different story you'd like to hear?" He rummaged through his luggage looking for a fresh pair of socks and his boots.

Having heard the story from Ron, Sara was anxious to hear her husband tell it. "No, that's just the story I want to hear."

**Greg's Apartment  
****9:20 a.m. **

"Sweetie, I'm home!" Greg announced as he walked through the front door with his kit in one hand and an envelope in the other. "I've got your DNA results." Anxious for a warm greeting, he placed his kit on the floor, shut the door and headed for the bedroom.

Skipping out of the bedroom dressed in a pair of white shorts and a bright yellow tank, Tawny hurried to greet her man. "How was work?" She asked while throwing her arms around Greg's neck. "Scale of 1 to 10."

"Six," He replied when he was through bestowing a hello kiss.

After a lonely night of Algebra homework and reading, she was ready for some companionship. "How does it feel to be home with me?" She bubbled with enthusiasm.

"A solid ten." Taking her hand, he darted for the couch. "Snuggle time." Although the night's caseload wasn't disturbing or grueling, he still craved decompressing with her. Or, he wondered, do I just crave her? "As promised, here's your DNA report," He announced while pulling her close. "You have some spectacular DNA. My child is really lucking out having you as a mom."

"Really?" Opening the envelope she looked at the cryptic report. "Uh…I think I'm just going to have to trust you."

Chuckling, he told her, "Don't feel bad. No one is supposed to know how to read these without the education and experience."

Wrinkling her nose she stared at the information. "How exactly does all this DNA stuff work anyway?"

Leaning forward, he grabbed her Algebra notebook and a pencil off the coffee table. "You stop me if I geek-out so much you're on the verge of not finding me attractive _or_ if you don't get something, okay?"

"Don't go too easy on me," She warned. "I don't want DNA for dummies. And I seriously doubt I could _ever_ find you unattractive."

Pumped by her affirmation, he forged ahead. "Okay…Human DNA, which stands for deoxyribonucleic acid, is stored as a code made up of four chemical bases: adenine, guanine, cytosine, and thymine…also known as A, G, C and T. These bases pair up…always A with T and G with C, then attach to a sugar and a phosphate, to form a nucleotide. The nucleotides are arranged in two strands and together they form the double helix." He drew it out for her to follow. "See…the paired bases are the rungs and the sugar and phosphate make up the sides." Smiling at her, he asked, "Tracking me so far?"

"Yes, Mr. Wizard." She beamed. "Keep going."

"Hmm…Mr. Wizard, I'm liking the way that sounds coming from you. As a matter of fact…I'm dreaming of a little role play." Every day he loved coming home to her more and for a moment he was consumed by her smile.

Elbowing him in the ribs, Tawny jeered, "Focus!"

"Uh…okay but promise me we'll come back to the Mr. Wizard thing another time." Jotting letters on the ladder rungs, he smirked, "Okay, the order of the base pairs is what determines the code: A-T, C-G, T-A, etc… There are about 3 billion pairs and 99 percent of the code is the same for every human. Only 1 percent makes us unique."

"So that's the part you test?"

"Exactly! When we test, we use something called STR, Short Tandem Repeat Analysis to study 13 specific regions…loci…within nuclear DNA. Then we can compare any two DNA reports to determine if there's a match. The odds of two individuals having the same 13-loci DNA profile is one in a billion, therefore, if we have two DNA samples that do match, we can be confident that they are from the same person."

"So…if you find DNA on a victim that matches to a DNA swab from a suspect you can prove the suspect had contact with the victim?"

"Right!" He rewarded her deduction with an energetic kiss. "I think you have a brain for science as well as math. Must be a result of your spectacular DNA."

"How does your DNA compare to mine?" Tussling his wild hair, she asked, "Will our child be doubly blessed?"

"It's not as good as yours, but it's not too shabby." Getting up, he crossed the room and when he arrived at his desk, he opened the bottom drawer and plucked out a file. "By the way, I have a copy of mine at work too. I already compared our reports and determined we're not related."

"That's a good thing." She giggled, "Not that I was worried."

"Hey, you never really know what your parents did before they got married…or even after marrying. Anyone could have a secret half-brother or sister somewhere out there." Giving a practical example, he stated, "Like if you hadn't told me about our baby and then I had a kid with someone else one day…then my two kids hook up…voila…incest."

"Your mind scares me sometimes."

"You're not the first person to say that," He chuckled. Returning to his place next to her on the couch, he held up the two reports and absently announced, "Here's what's cool…now that we have my DNA report and yours, all that's missing is the baby's. Once we can get the baby's DNA, we'll compare his or her profile to yours to match up genetic characteristics and eliminate them. Then the child's remaining genetic characteristics are compared to my profile to determine if there are enough matches to deem that I am the child's father."

"What?" In shock, Tawny slid to the end of the couch.

As soon as he saw her face he knew his casual mention of the subject stunned her and he quickly tried to repair the damage. "Sorry I didn't mean to upset you. We discussed this before and…"

One hand pressed to her stomach and the other covering her mouth, she shakily asked, "Is this why you wanted my DNA…oh my god. You said you believed me." The strength of her voice grew. "I thought you trusted me!"

"Wait a minute…I never said I didn't believe you!" Blindsided by her strong reaction he stammered, "This…why are you? This is nothing new. We always agreed that we'd have a paternity test."

"When you barely knew me yes, but _now_?" Jumping off the couch she heatedly exclaimed, "We're in a relationship now. My god! I bared my soul to you and trusted you with my most personal secrets that I never shared with anyone _ever_! How can you think I'm a liar!" Flashing to hysteria, she screamed, "I've never lied to you, Greg. Never! How could you…"

"Just…calm down." Standing, he tried to take her his arms. "Please…"

"No!" She backed away. "I can't believe you tricked me!"

"I didn't trick you!" Dashing his fingers through his hair in frustration, he shouted back, "This was _always_ the plan. You agreed! You even said you wanted to have it done pre-natal and I said no, that we should wait for safety reasons. Look at you! You look terrified. Seeing you get so hysterical about the testing is making me _paranoid._" Alarm bells sounded in his head and he relentlessly pursued his point. "Now I'm starting to think I have something to worry about when I really didn't think I did! Do I have something to worry about? Is there something you haven't told me? Because I'm…I really wanted…" Scared that he was losing everything he thought he had, Greg yelled, "Would you answer me!"

Tears pouring down her cheeks, Tawny squeaked, "You're the father."

"Then why are you so upset at the prospect of a paternity test?" Pacing the room he tried to make sense of the situation. "If you're so confident then why the drama? You're freaking me out. I'm sorry, I just don't get it."

"Because…" Trying to catch her breath, she said, "…I'm upset because…for once…I was happy that someone trusted me and now I realize you don't. You're just like my mother when I told her what that pig boyfriend did to me!" The painful memory flooded her and in a flash, anger flowed through her. "You don't believe me! You're just like her! You think I'm nothing but a lying whore! I wasn't lying _then _and I'm not lying _now_!"

Finally comprehending the real reason for her behavior, he relaxed. "I do believe…"

"Shut up!" She yelled before gasping for air. "I really thought you were different, but you're not. The girls were right. All of this…you being nice to me…you're just hedging your bets so you don't look like a deadbeat in nine months!"

Seeing her so hurt was ripping him apart. "Please would you let me…"

"No!" Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she sobbed, "I'm not letting you do another thing for me or the baby. I'm leaving. I'm getting my old job back and I'm gonna dance my ass off so I have enough money in four weeks to have a CVS test done and get a damn DNA sample! Then I'm going to send you the results in a 'Congratulations You're the Daddy' card with a note that says don't _ever _come near me or the baby again!"

"Stop!" He rushed after her as she grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter and bolted for the door. "Please stop!"

"Get your hands off me!" She yelled as she shoved him away then yanked open the front door. "I'll come back for my things when you're at work tonight."

Unsure of how to make things right, Greg remained frozen in the doorway. Two days ago he was telling Grissom how he was looking forward to the first argument with Tawny, but now he feared their first argument might be their _only _argument because she never wanted to see him again. Suddenly he understood why Grissom looked at him as if he were insane and his mentor's words echoed in his head… _Don't you think you're setting yourself up for a fall? Aren't you worried that one day you and Tawny will disagree or she'll do something to make you come crashing down and the rush will be gone as fast as it came? _"He left out one scenario…me doing something to make it come crashing down."

Retreating into the apartment, Greg numbly walked into the living room and dropped on the couch. "Grissom was right."

"_What am I complaining about, Tawny has been a victim a couple of times…the incident with her mom's boyfriend was bad enough but she was date raped a few years back…talk about guys who deserve grievous bodily harm. But you see, even with all that, Tawny doesn't seem to have a PTSD problem."_

"_You haven't known her that long, Greg. Symptoms can come and go." _

Sitting on the couch staring at the DNA reports, he continued his descent from heaven to hell. Why didn't I stop and think about her history and filter her reaction? If I had just stopped before jumping to conclusions… "Damn it."

**Lake Tahoe  
****9:40 a.m. **

Holding hands as they navigated through the trees toward the lake, Grissom told his story. "My dad told me my favorite activity in the backyard or anywhere outdoors was overturning rocks and watching the bugs scurry away. Apparently I'd shriek like a lunatic and jump up and down."

"Explains your enthusiasm for cockroach racing..." Sara gave his hand a squeeze. "…and you still shriek, Honey. Remember when you found lost Racer Number Six scampering across the living room after he was done violating me? The noise you made…definitely the gleeful shriek of a bug-obsessed little boy!"

Halting the stroll, he informed his smirking wife, "Well, the noise you made when Number Six was crawling up your leg was definitely the terrified scream of a bug-fearing prissy girl!"

"Insect Freak!" She teased.

"Wuss!"

In between laughs she declared, "I_ love_ the bug geek in you."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close. "And I love watching you squirm like a _worm_ when you get freaked out by bugs."

"Don't you mean a Lumbricus Terrestris?" She replied, once again showing off her knowledge.

Feigning irritation, he snipped, "You know we can't get randy, so why are you talking dirty?"

Breathing heavy, she expounded in a sexy rasp, "Lumbricus Terrestris…_dirty _little earthworms covered in decayed organic matter and naturally occurring bacteria and fungi, spend all night working _hard,_ burrowing _in_ and _out_ of the warm, _moist _soil until they collapse _panting_ from exhaustion."

"You blew it with the 'panting from exhaustion' part," He informed her through a playful grin. "Earthworms absorb oxygen directly through their skin. Specifically, it's dissolved into the mucous coating their skin, then it passes through the skin, and the walls of capillaries lacing the skin, where it is picked up by hemoglobin in the worm's blood and carried throughout the body."

"Yeah, but that doesn't sound as sexy as _panting_."

"It does if the guy gets turned on by scientific accuracy."

"Geek!"

"Tease!" He proclaimed before stealing a deliriously lengthy kiss.

"Ahhh…now this feels like our long overdue honeymoon," Sara stated as she swooned from the kiss. "Passion…silly banter…can't keep our hands or our lips off each other…" She started giggling, "…crossword puzzles...ovulation prediction…bugs…science talk. All we need to do is work in a game of Scrabble later to live up to our nerdy reputation."

"You forgot to mention the germ-free blankets. "Taking her by the hand he continued down the trail. "It's a geek honeymoon, I think it suits us both very well and I'm loving every minute of it."

"Yeah." She prodded him with a smile. "Now, finish your story."

Happy that she was still interested, he continued, "My father told you how I broke my ankle when I was almost three, right?" When she acknowledged his question with a nod, he said, "After that, he felt bad because I couldn't run around outside lifting rocks and watching bugs. One day, before he was about to leave on a business trip, he bought me an ant farm so I could watch bugs even though I was stuck inside."

"Very thoughtful." Having arrived at the beach she backed up against his chest so they could watch the water in each other's arms.

Slipping his arms around her, he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Yeah…it wasn't easy to hear him tell it. There was so much that was hard to hear." Sighing, he persisted, "Anyway, against my mother's wishes, my dad let me keep the farm in my bedroom. Since I had climbed out of my crib and hurt myself, my parents decided to put my mattress on the floor. That first night with the farm, apparently I wanted to sleep with my new pets, so when I was alone, I put the farm in bed with me. By morning…ants everywhere. My dad said when my mom entered the room I was sound asleep with ants on the bed and directly on me. But when she woke me, I wasn't bothered at all."

"Now there's an early indicator of success as an Entomologist!"

"Absolutely." He chuckled lightly as he watched the water gently lapping.

"Your dad showed me a picture of the ant farm." Her voice overflowed with warmth. "It was adorable…you sitting on his lap, both of you smiling. Your smile hasn't changed one bit. You do realize you have your father's smile, right?"

After a laborious sigh, he admitted, "I was shocked to see how much I look like my father. For obvious reasons my mom didn't keep any pictures of him around and as a nine year old I didn't think I looked anything like him. You know those pictures you saw with him in his twenties? I looked just like that when I was that age. So now I guess you know what I'll look like in my seventies."

"Yeah…I think your dad is damn fine looking for seventy-two."

"In that case I'll say something I've never said before…I hope I grow up just like him."

After sharing a laugh, she asked, "You've seen the photo I have of me with my parents. Who do you think I look like?"

Tightening his grip around her, he spoke softly. "You have your mother's smile and your dad's eyes."

"That's what I thought too." Breathing deep, she forced a sunny tone. "Okay…I think we definitely veered off course from honeymoon talk."

Sensing she wanted an out, he declared, "Then by all means, let's talk bugs." Heading for the water's edge, he enthusiastically pointed. "This lake…it's like one big vat of insect soup!"

Grinning, she joined him. "You just killed any chance of getting me to go skinny dipping with you."

"The thought never crossed my mind…" His face lit up like a neon sign. "…until now."

"Have you ever…with someone?" She curiously inquired, testing to see if he'd withhold the answer or live up to his promise to share more about himself.

"Nope," He answered without hesitation. "I had the inclination but never an opportunity. You?"

"Opposite problem. I had the opportunity in college, but wasn't drunk enough to get over my inhibition to have the inclination." Shaking her head at the memory, she said, "Kip Stevenson cited it as his reason for breaking things off with me the next day. Called me a prude."

"Nah, I can vouch for that. You were just waiting for the right time…and the right guy." Bending down, he splashed a wave of water at his unsuspecting wife.

"Hey!" Peeling her soaked white t-shirt from her skin, she shot him a look. "If you think…it's broad daylight!"

"Isn't that the best time to overcome an inhibition? Anyone can overcome an inhibition in the cover of darkness!" Upon yanking off his grey t-shirt he dangled it front of her, grinning. "You know, your shirt will dry if you lay it on the rocks while you take a swim. Would you put mine with yours?"

"Optimist!" She huffed as she snatched his shirt.

"I'm just fulfilling my promise to give you 100 percent of Gil Grissom. The question is…can you handle the new emotionally unburdened me?" Kicking off his boots and nudging her with his eyes, he said, "Water temp is 70 degrees, the beach is private and extremely secluded…it's our honeymoon…don't propagate the erroneous geek stereotype by chickening out."

After a thorough visual inspection of the surrounding area, Sara walked over to the rocks, dropped her husband's shirt and removed hers. "Catherine will never believe I did this," She remarked while losing the rest of her clothes. The sound of a splash caused her to whip around. "Hey! Aren't you supposed to wait for me?"

From the water he answered, "No, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be in the water watching you come to me. At least that's how it's written in several novels I've read."

Hurrying to the water laughing, she yelled, "In B movies the couples always hold hands and run into the water together!"

"Oh please…everyone knows books are _always_ better than the movies!" Opening his arms, he taunted her like she had taunted him when she wanted him to take a bubble bath. "Like our song says, Sara…heaven and earth know the moment's right…why don't you, come be with me?"

The cool water sent a shiver through her flushed body which sent her rushing into her husband's arms. Once again she scanned the area but was relieved to see only birds and squirrels for an audience. "Happy?"

"Extremely," He murmured while dropping kisses over her slick skin. "Now I can move another fantasy to the fulfilled column."

"Exactly how many are in the _unfulfilled_ column?" She pried in a seductive tone. "As your wife and exclusive filler of said fantasies I think it's my business to know."

"Rounding up?" He chuckled heartily. "Fifty."

"Fifty!" Stunned, she pulled away.

"Don't worry, not all of them are things _you _can fulfill."

Eyeing him suspiciously, she snipped, "Clarification please."

"Relax." He took her hand. "I meant like winning the Nobel Prize. And of course I have bug fantasies."

"Excuse me?" She raised a brow. "There's a fetish we haven't run into _yet _on the job."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Honey. I meant like finding an undiscovered insect."

"I knew that." Shivering, she returned to his arms and jumping up, wrapped her legs around his waist. "I don't like my feet touching the squishy lake bottom…all that algae…blech." Playfully she nibbled on his ear lobe and sprinkled kisses down his neck. "Baby, are there trout in this lake or are you just happy to see me?"

Thrilled she selected _trout _and not minnow for her joke, he chuckled, "Uh...yeah…Honey…you're coming dangerously close to helping me move _another _fantasy to the fulfilled column and since you insisted that today be a day of rest I'm going to have to call you a..."

"How close?" She teased while repositioning and escalating her taunt. "How close am I to fulfilling another one of your fantasies?"

"Rounding up? One inch."

Purring in his ear, she asked, "Aren't you going to ask me how many unfulfilled fantasies I have?"

"If one of them is torturing me, you've fulfilled it." Overwhelmed by her excruciating proximity, he gulped, "Uh…okay, how many unfilled fantasies do you have?"

While claiming his lips with a heated kiss, she shocked the hell out of him with a stealthy move. Thirty seconds later when she broke the kiss, she answered, "How many? Same as you…one less than thirty seconds ago." The pleasure in his eyes escalated her satisfaction. "I know I said today was a rest day but…Happy Honeymoon."

Locking her body in place with his arms, he gratefully retorted, "It certainly is."

**Catherine's House  
****10:45 a.m. **

Entering the house from the garage, Catherine tossed her keys on the kitchen counter and made a beeline for the living room. "How's the game?"

Hitting the 'pause' button on the digital recorder, Warrick glanced up from his position splayed on the couch. "It's tight." He could tell by the expression on her face he wouldn't be hitting the 'play' button any time soon. "What's up?"

Miffed, she answered in a curt tone. "You didn't finish processing the car."

Yep…she was in boss mode and bringing work home. Two things he hated. "I pulled twelve and I was spent. Plus, I'm pulling a double tonight because I'm covering Days for Sara." Sitting up, he polished off his beer. "What's the big deal? Carlos said he'd finish."

"Oh he did, did he?" Stuffing her hands on her hips, Catherine griped, "Twenty minutes after you left, his wife called and he scampered home with his tail between his legs."

"Oh." He set his empty bottle on the table. "I didn't know that part."

"I tried to page you!"

Standing up, he explained, "I turned it off when I got home. I wanted a few hours to…"

"I tried to call you!" Her irritation grew.

"Sorry, I left my cell in the car."

"And the house phone?"

"Ringer must still be off from when we didn't want to be disturbed yesterday." Throwing his arms in the air he casually said, "Chaos theory."

"Uh…no!" She pointed at the coffee table. "Evidence…remote control and two empty beer bottles. You didn't want to be found!"

"Okay…I'm done," He informed her while heading for the door. "Boss lady, when you're ready to leave work at the office, I'll come home. This time I promise to have my cell with me."

"What's that supposed to mean!" She asked as he walked out the door. "Hey!"

**Shoreline Cabins  
****10:49 a.m.**

After enjoying their invigorating dip, Grissom and Sara returned from the lake to get ready for their realtor appointment.

Freshly showered with their bodies swathed in fluffy hunter green towels, Grissom and Sara stood at the bathroom sink. "Let me see that hand of yours," Sara insisted. "You probably shouldn't have soaked your stitches in the lake."

"Whatever consequence there is…" He flashed a naughty boy smile. "…it was worth it. Did I thank you for…"

"Ten times already." Opening her first aid kit, Sara's thoughts echoed her husband's blissful ones. "Good thing this kit was in my suitcase," She remarked while squeezing antibiotic ointment over the wound. "You do realize you're going to have a scar?"

"Good." He watched her tend to him with concern in her eyes. "I'll have a visual reminder of my stupidity. It will keep me in line."

"It's also good symmetry," Displaying her left palm, she sighed, "It matches mine from the lab explosion."

"Thanks for the positive spin." While she bandaged the cut, he asked, "So, Mrs. Grissom, are you absolutely sure you want to ante up $642,000 of our money for this place?"

"After our romp on the private beach…" Smoothing the bandage over his palm, she giggled, "…I'm positive. Besides, it will hardly make a dent in our account, right, Sugar Daddy?"

"We won't be eating Ramen noodles any time soon because of it." After inspecting her handiwork, he leaned in for a kiss. "My father is dying to see my portfolio…our portfolio."

"He wants to be sure he has more than you?" Grinning, she corrected herself. "…more than us?"

"No…he has plenty more and he knows it." Stepping out of the bathroom, he headed for his suitcase. "Investing and developing are his forte. It's too late for him to teach me how to shoot hoops and he's desperate to play some fatherly role. I think he sees financial advising as a way to sate the urge."

"How do you feel about that?" She asked while grabbing some underwear from her suitcase. "About him playing a fatherly role?"

"Conflicted," He answered before pulling a navy blue polo shirt over his head.

"What's causing the confliction?"

"You sound like Dr. Myers," He remarked while zipping his jeans. "This is good practice."

Tugging on a fitted teal v-neck shirt, she sweetly said, "Any time."

"I'm still very hurt by his choices, but I understand his motivation and I can't deny he sacrificed a lot to bring me into this world…and that he loved my mother and me deeply at one time." Leaning against the wall, he spoke while Sara finished getting ready. "My father made some very bad decisions…but so did I earlier this week. I could have permanently messed things up for us so it's hard not to give someone another chance when I just got one. Last week I was talking with Greg and I brought up an Emerson quote…_self-sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow_."

"Good quote."

"Yeah…so we discussed it a little and he asked me to elaborate." Running his hand over his beard, he said, "I talked about the cyclical nature of sacrifice…giving something up, then reaping the rewards of your generosity and then giving something back. Turns out he actually listened to me. We were at a crime scene the night I found out you left…nasty double homicide with an evisceration. My head was working on me…physically and psychologically. You know Greg is still getting his sea legs and I should have been supportive but instead, I humiliated him in front of Sofia, pointed out his inadequacies and he ended up rushing outside to get sick. I even barked at him about that…it was all bad. "

Fully dressed, Sara sat on the edge of the bed to listen.

"A little while later, I'm outside getting sick as a dog on my hands and knees…a total wreck." His voice grew deeper. "Greg comes out and instead of rubbing the hypocrisy in my face, he lends a hand and cites the Emerson quote and discussion we had. I ask him why he didn't march out and call me a hypocrite. He tells me, up until the week before, he was a hypocrite so if he called me a hypocrite he would be one again and he didn't want to be that kind of guy anymore. I guess that's how I feel about my father. I need to give him the same opportunity you gave me or I'll be a hypocrite."

Standing up, she tenderly said, "Doesn't sound like you're conflicted anymore."

"No…I guess I'm not."

"See how easy this stuff is once you get going?" She covered the ten feet between them and took his hand. "Nice work."

"Thank you." Bringing her hand to his lips he brushed a kiss over it. "Ready to make our first major purchase as husband and wife?"

"Our third first today and it's only eleven a.m." Clutching his hand she headed for the door.

"I wonder what the tally will be by midnight?"

"Rounding up?" She teased. "Ten."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

"**Second Chances – Part 15"**

**August 11, 2005 (Day 111)  
****Tweeters  
****11:01 a.m. **

After paying the cover at the door, Greg rushed into the club. The pulsating throb of the dance music filled his ears and the bare-chested 'birds' swooping around caught his eyes as he frantically searched for one in particular.

Hustling over to the bar, Greg flagged down the bartender. "I'm looking for Tawny. Have you seen her?"

Vinnie, the brawny bartender, wiped his hands on a towel as he said, "Sorry, man, she quit a little over a week ago. Tawny was a sweet piece of tail, but look around…there's plenty of other birds in the sky. They all sing for the right price."

"Yeah…uh." Greg struggled to block the fact that every man in here had probably at one point or another seen 98 percent of his girlfriend's body. "Tawny is my girlfriend…we live together. I'm trying to…"

"You're Greggy? Or do you go by Prince Charming?" Vinnie cracked a wide smile. "Hell, we all know about you! Tawny couldn't stop singing your praises. Told everybody what a great guy you are. She's nuts about you. Never mentioned your screwed up hair though." Grabbing a glass, he said, "Congrats on the baby. Here's a shot on the house."

Finding out that Tawny boasted about him didn't help Greg's self-loathing mood. "Thanks." He accepted the tequila. "Don't mind if I do."

"You look like shit."

"We had an argument," He explained after pounding the shot. "I need to talk to her ASAP and clear something up."

Feeling sorry for Greggy, Vinnie said, "Don't sweat it. Chicks…they can drive a guy crazy. Just unloaded my second fiancée.

"Uh…congratulations? Is Tawny here? I really need…"

"She was here about an hour ago. She was looking for Nolan…the manager."

Greg remembered Nolan from the night he and Grissom came here to question him.

Vinnie winked. "I had to tell her that Nolan was indisposed…a new bird flew in this morning and he was _going through the employee manual_ with her if you catch my drift. I did see Tawny talking to Amber though." He pointed to a platinum blonde dancer dressed in Flamingo pink. "Maybe she knows something. But hey…Amber's working the floor, so if you want to talk to her, you're going to have to take a seat and ante up. If you don't, the bouncers will nail you, 'cause it looks bad if she's giving away anything for free."

"Got it." Greg slid the empty shot glass across the bar. "Thanks for the drink and your help."

"No problem."

Pulling out his wallet, Greg found an empty spot in Amber's section.

Eyeing the new customer's wallet, Amber swooped. "Hey there, pretty boy. You lookin' for a little birdy to land on your lap?"

"Amber, right?"

"Yeah, but I'll answer to anything if you throw some cash my way."

Holding up a twenty, Greg said, "All I want is information. I'm Tawny's boyfriend. I'm looking for her and Vinnie said you might know where she went."

"You're Greggy?" Amber burst into a smile. "She never mentioned your screwed up hair." Planting her stiletto wearing foot on the chair in between Greg's legs she said, "Money in the garter and I'll sing."

Quickly he complied. "Did she say where she was going?"

"Since she couldn't talk to Nolan, she said she was going to Club Paradise to see if they'd hire her. She was crying and I asked what happened. She told me about your stupid fight." Amber groaned, "I called her an idiot for messing up the sweet ride she had with you. Farm girl believes in fairy tales and doesn't know a good deal when she sees it." Salaciously grinning, she placed her hands on the back of Greg's chair. "Baby, I told her to get her ass home to find you and when she did to drop to her knees and _beg _for forgiveness using as few words as possible."

Amber's D's suspended only inches from his face, Greg announced, "Uh…you've been a big help, thanks. I'm uh…going to try and catch her at Club Paradise."

As he scurried away, Amber yelled, "If things don't work out with Miss Kansas, you come back and see me, Greggy!"

**Ponderosa Realty  
****Incline Village, NV  
****11:14 a.m. **

After completing the seven page Residential Purchase Agreement form and handing over the deposit check, Sara and Gil waited in the office lobby for Becky Knolls and the agent to review the contract.

"Think she'll accept?" Sara asked while rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Honey, it's a full price cash offer," He reminded her while taking her hand and hoping she'd settle down. "Even in Vegas I believe they'd call it a sure thing."

Laughing at herself, she replied, "I'm already attached to our little love nest in the woods. I want it to be official."

"Did you like my choice of closing date?" He inquired with pride in his voice.

"My birthday? I guess you won't be forgetting it this year."

"I didn't_ forget _it last year." He rolled his eyes. "Fool that I was I just chose not to acknowledge it."

Choosing to focus on the future, she needled, "Does this mean you're getting me the cabin as a birthday gift?"

Brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, he said, "No, we're buying this together. I have something else very special in mind for your birthday gift."

"Now I'm curious." She raised a brow

Raising one back at her, he retorted, "Always a good state for a scientist to be in."

"Speaking of birthdays." Sara tugged him by the hand over to a bench and together they took a seat. "I've decided to throw you a birthday party."

"A what?" He bristled at the thought. "I've never had a birthday party. I don't even like talking about my birthday. The cake in the break room is enough to throw me over the edge. And now you know _why_ I don't like my birthday…because of my father dumping me right before…"

"That's exactly why you need a party." Patting his hand, she explained. "It's time to put the joy back in your birthday. You almost died nine days ago…you have a reason to celebrate. Next year you'll be fifty and you'll have to have a big one…think of this as a warm up. Besides, I've uh…already kind of planned it. You know your team has the weekend of the 20th off for their monthly break. They all have the Saturday night blocked."

"I'm the last one to know about this?" He groaned. "Sara, I don't…"

"Hey! I could have made it a surprise party, but considering what happened when you found a surprise guest in our house last week…I decided to tell you."

"I appreciate that." He shuddered at the thought of coming home to find Sara acting like she was hiding something again. "Nothing elaborate, right?"

"Just the usual suspects over for a nice _catered_ dinner…because I'm not putting up with an evening of harassment about my cooking like last time at brunch. Another thing different from last time…our friends all have significant others…Catherine and Warrick, Nick and Carrie, Greg and Tawny, Jim…I'm not sure if he's up for bringing his mystery lady or not. He's still being very secretive. Do you think he's embarrassed about her?"

"Ahh…" Grissom realized that Jim probably didn't tell Sara because she had enough on her mind. "He uh…"

"Mr. and Mrs. Grissom…" Cathy Sanborn, the realtor, called from her office door. "Congratulations. Becky officially accepted your offer. Your closing date will be September 16th as requested. If you'll step back into my office we'll go over the inspection arrangements and other details."

Beaming with excitement, Sara pecked her husband's cheek. "Thank you."

Delighted by the gleam in his wife's eyes, he commented, "It's going to be a great place to bring the kid, don't you think?"

"Definitely." Together they stood. "You can show him the lake full of insects."

"Who knows…" Grissom whispered in her ear. "We might be able to tell him he was conceived in it."

**Club Paradise  
****11:53 a.m. **

Repeating the same drill, Greg paid the cover, entered the club and made a beeline for the bar. "Hey!" He called out to the husky tattooed man wiping the counter. "Have you seen Tawny Cooper? She used to work here and she was coming in to ask for her old job back."

"You buying a drink?" Tony barked. "I only talk to paying customers."

"Whatever you have on tap." While throwing a ten on the bar he canvassed the club for a sign of Tawny. He was relieved that no one was dancing yet because the club just opened for the day.

Slapping the glass of beer on the counter, Tony prodded, "So, you like Tawny, huh? You follow her here from her last gig at Tweeters?"

"Yeah." Not wanting to raise suspicion, Greg took a swig and played it cool. "So you kept my change, tell me what I want to know. Is she here? Where is she?"

"Damn, her knobs really have a hold on you, huh? I don't blame you, she is one fine lookin' girl. Don't hold your breath though Loverboy. I tried to get her to go out with me and she turned me down and my hair isn't screwed up like yours." Tony laughed. "So tell me, are a fan or a _stalker_?"

Setting down his glass, he gave Tony _The Look_. "Boyfriend and father of her child actually. Now will you tell me where she is?"

Fishing Greg's change out of the tip jar, Tony nodded. "Sorry about that. She's in the locker room. She's due out for the noon shift."

Greg's eyes darted to his watch. 11:56. "Where's the locker room?" In a panic, he visually inspected the area looking for a locker room sign. "Where is it?"

"Dude…you can't go back there." Tony had seen this look before and he signaled one of the bouncers. "Let me guess…she wants to keep her career and you're opposed. It's not like you're the first guy to want to keep his girl's ass off the stage. Here's a tip…if you can't accept the fact she dances then save yourself some pain and move on, man. These chicks…they have expensive habits…they like the cash. If you don't have the dough to keep them, they keep dancing until they find a Sugar Daddy or become too unattractive to rake in the big bucks."

Another two minutes gone, Greg screamed, "You get someone back there and tell her I'm here to bring her home. She's not coming out to dance today or ever!"

One of the bouncers stepped over and escorted Greg away from the bar. "If you can't keep your voice down, I'll do it for you. Now follow me to the door like a good psycho."

Remembering his ID was still in his back pocket, Greg whipped it out. "I'm LVPD. I'm here to speak with Tawny Cooper in regards to an incident that happened earlier today. I need her in a private room ASAP. And make sure she's dressed!"

"I'll get right on that, Officer." The bouncer flashed a silver-toothed smile. "Why don't you wait for her in Champagne Room number one?"

Greg nodded authoritatively. "LVPD thanks you for your cooperation."

**Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes' Office  
****12:00 p.m. **

The buzz of the office intercom distracted Nick from his pile of paperwork. It was Jim's secretary and he knew he had to answer it. "Hey, Betty."

"You have a delivery."

"A delivery?" He checked his watch. "Did someone order lunch? Great, because I'm…"

"No…it's…you really just have to see it."

"I'll be right there." Curious, he hurried out from behind his desk and down the hall to Betty's. As soon as he rounded the corner and saw the enormous colorful bouquet on the countertop, he broke into a broad smile.

Betty stood and remarked. "I've never seen a flower bouquet made out of napkins before…is this a hot new trend?"

"No…it's uh…an inside joke with my fiancée regarding our wedding plans. I'm thinking it's a peace offering…at least I hope that's what it is and not a creative way to tell me to go to hell." Snatching the card dangling from the purple napkin flower, he sighed with relief. "It's a peace offering. We had this stupid argument over napkin colors."

Smiling, she offered motherly advice. "Any time she asks what you like, say this in the sweetest tone…_Sweetie, whichever one you like is my favorite too_. Or, if she's the type who likes you to have an opinion then say this with conviction…_Honey, I love the second one!_ Invariably she'll already have the one she wants picked and it won't matter what you think. If the second one isn't the one she wanted then you follow up with…_well, then let's go with your choice because you have much better taste than me, Darling!"_

"Thanks for the advice, Betty." Chuckling, Nick grabbed the vase off her desk and hustled toward his office.

In the hallway, Pete spied his boss carrying the rainbow bouquet of napkins and was ready to launch a verbal assault.

"Yes, it's a bouquet of napkins. Don't say a word Pete!" Nick warned. "Unless you want the crappy assignments for the rest of the week."

**Club Paradise  
****12:04 p.m. **

Pacing the tiny VIP room, Greg tried to rehearse his words. Unfortunately, his practice was cut short when the door opened and Tawny, wearing a black satin robe was escorted in by Ed the bouncer.

When their eyes met, two audible gasps filled the room.

"You want me to stay with you, Tawny?" Ed asked in a protective tone.

Choking back her tears, she said, "No…I'll be okay." Worry blanketed Greg's face and she instantly knew he wasn't here to tell her to go to hell, but because he cared.

Ed flashed a warning glance. "Remember…there are cameras in here. Don't even think about roughing her up to get information out of her."

"Not a chance," Greg answered in an emotionally strained voice as he stared at Tawny's heavily made up and distraught eyes. Used to her natural beauty it was difficult to see her looking so garish again.

When Ed left, shutting the door behind him, they spoke simultaneously.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to mask her appreciation.

"Please give me a chance to explain!" He pleaded while fighting the urge to pull her into his arms.

"How did you find me?" Her eyes began filling as the pregnancy hormones kicked into full gear.

"I went to Tweeters and paid Amber to tell me where you went."

"You went looking for me?" The first tear slid down her cheek. "No…I can't do this. You don't trust me. I'm not going to settle for someone who doesn't trust me. I want a real relationship, Greg. You really hurt me this morning. I can't…"

"I _do_ trust you. I do!" He stepped closer. "What came out of my mouth this morning…I wasn't clear…I hurt your feelings…I know I did, and I'm so sorry because that wasn't my intent at all. If you give me a chance, I know I can explain it better now."

Using the sleeve of her robe, she wiped her damp cheeks. "Two minutes."

"Thank you!" Elated she was willing to listen, he began his plea. "This morning, I _never_ said I didn't believe you. I _do_ believe you, Tawny. I _really _do!"

"Then why…"

With only two minutes allotted, he had no choice but to speak frankly. "We both know you slept with another guy the week before you met me and I'm not bringing it up as a judgment…you weren't doing anything I wasn't doing. I'm not a hypocrite. I'm bringing it up because even though you said you used a condom, and I _absolutely _believe you were telling the truth, there is a chance that it could be his baby. The odds are _very_ slim…almost negligible, but the possibility does exist. No method of birth control is 100 percent accurate and even though we're talking less than 1 percent, I can't ignore the fact. At work I see things that defy the odds every day. I wish I could turn off my concern, but I can't."

"I can't either," She sobbed as panic boiled in her. "Is that what you're hoping? That it's not…"

"No!" Breaking the room rules, he took her hands. "The last thing I want…I swear to god…the last thing I want is for this baby to be anyone else's. At first, I was terrified at the prospect of having a baby _with _you, but now…I'm terrified at the thought of it _not _being my baby. I want this…I want us. I find myself falling for you a little more every day."

The affirmation was so close to the magic three words she always longed to hear. "You do?"

"Yes!" Moving his hands up to her shoulders, he breathlessly explained, "Today when you left…when you said you wouldn't let me near you or the baby…I felt my whole world come to a grinding halt. I know it's crazy…I know it hasn't been that long, but I already can't imagine you not being a part of my life. I never would have told my mother about you if I wasn't serious. I wouldn't have invited you to come to work and meet my friends if I didn't plan on having you around."

"Really?" On a dime, her tears switched gears from sorrow to joy.

Cupping her tear-soaked face with his hands he lovingly said, "When I'm driving home from work, I'm counting the minutes until I see you. When I'm parking my car, I'm already thinking about your smile. When I hold you in my arms after a long night at work, I feel rejuvenated instead of wiped. I love sharing my apartment and my life with you. I want you…the baby…I want us. So you see…it's not that I don't believe you. I just need to know to see on paper what I already know in my heart…it's my baby." Gulping for air, he stated, "Sorry, I know that was longer than two minutes but I had a lot to get off my chest. Tawny…will you _please_ come home with me? Will you give us another chance?"

Nodding, she melted into his arms. "I didn't want to go out on stage. I was sitting in the locker room getting sick to my stomach. I don't want this life back. You've made me see I can be so much more and I want to be more. I know it was nasty to tell you I wouldn't let you see the baby, but I was so angry...I wasn't just angry at you either…I have so many memories of…I guess I have something to discuss with Dr. Myers at my next session, huh?" Glancing up into Greg's eyes, she whimpered, "I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain, but you really shocked me."

Gripping her tight, he soothed, "I know I did and I'm sorry, I just wasn't thinking. Remember when you said I had 999 cool points left…start deducting."

Half laughing, half crying, she replied, "100 sound fair?"

"Way too generous." Wiping her running mascara, he softly said, "We need to talk things out before blowing, okay? It's not good for the baby."

"I know it's not. I read that stress on the mother is horrible for the baby." Sniffling, she said, "So that's why I want to do the test in four weeks. I know you've said you were against it, but I can't live like this for nine months. It's too stressful. I already made an appointment for September 7th. Please…I know there is a slight risk, but I think the tension of not knowing will be more dangerous to the baby and me."

"I agree." Taking a deep breath, he nodded. "September 7th we'll know for sure."

"Since it's after the trip to California, I'll understand if you don't want me to go."

"Oh, you're going. No way you're getting out of it." Smiling he pecked her lips. "You're just afraid to meet my mom after what Catherine told you about her."

Before she could reply, Ed threw open the door. "Okay...I'm breaking this up. I let it go on long enough for you to kiss and make up, but now I'm livin' up to my hardass rep and kicking you out. Tawny…the boss wants to know when you're gonna get your ass on stage."

"Ed…I need to tell the boss I'm not coming out of retirement after all."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****12:41 p.m. **

Standing in the living room holding the bottle of champagne the realtor had given them, Grissom asked, "Should we open it?"

"Definitely, we'll make it my last hurrah before I'm pregnant," Sara answered while heading to the kitchen. "I didn't see any champagne flutes, but there are wine glasses in the cabinet."

While working on the cork, Grissom casually asked, "Find any good wine up here?"

Reading between the lines, she assured him, "You can just ask me if I drank."

"Did you?"

"Lots." Grabbing the wine glasses, she turned smiling. "Gatorade…water…Sprite." Confident, she strolled over to him and said, "I think we can officially declare me free of alcoholic tendencies since I got through this crisis without hittin' the bottle once."

"Absolutely." Sobering for a moment he admitted, "The last time we argued…the day you were drinking…you said your father drove your mother to alcoholism. I didn't want to be responsible for…"

"You wouldn't have been. It's a choice." Breathing deep, she admitted, "My mom had a choice…she had several…problem was she always made the wrong ones. My dad made worse ones. I realize that now. It's like what you said about your parents, now that you understand things for how they really were, you don't fear making the same mistakes. I feel the same way about mine."

"We both have more than just the purchase of this cabin to celebrate," He announced as he popped the cork and proceeded to fill the wine glasses she was holding. Taking one in his hand, he offered a toast. "To a whole new beginning for us…as individuals and as a couple."

"I'll drink to that!" Lightly clinking her glass to his and taking a sip she grinned. "What else should we do to celebrate besides the customary honeymoon accompaniment to champagne?"

"How about that Scrabble game you mentioned earlier?" Raising his glass toward the shelves built into the rear wall, he pointed out the game board. "But only if you're in the mood to lose."

"Is that some kind of challenge?" Turned on by his cockiness, she hustled over to grab the game and the dictionary that was on top of the box. "What are we going to wager now that personal information is free of charge?"

"As you said, the customary honeymoon accompaniment to champagne is out so…" Pausing for a sip and a thought, he came up smiling. "Oh…I know what I want _when_ I win."

"The look in your eyes has me very intrigued." Walking to the front door, she suggested, "Let's play on the table outside because tomorrow night we'll be returning to the oven known as Las Vegas and I want to enjoy this perfect weather."

With a glass in one hand and a bottle in the other, he followed her out the door.

"Name your prize," She demanded as she took a seat and began setting up the game board on the patio table.

Reclining in the padded chair, he let his snooty intellectual side emerge. "Did you know that bats consume their body weight in insects every night? No…I'm sure you didn't know that delightful detail."

"You are correct. Somehow, in the course of my lifetime, I missed that fascinating factoid." Tossing her best smirk, she added, "But I'm fourteen years younger than you so…you've had more time to acquire information."

"Low."

"Three letter words won't get many points in this game, Baby." Shaking the tile bag, she filled with unbridled optimism. "Luckily, my vocabulary is well beyond my years." She held out the bag for him to pick a letter.

"As I was saying…" He selected a tile…an E…and showed it to her. "Bats consume their body weight in insects nightly, eating as many as one thousand flying insects per hour."

"Impressive." She flashed her T tile. "You're first."

Selecting his remaining six tiles, he boldly announced, "_When _I win this game, I will request your presence for a night of bat watching on the beach. Together, we'll hold hands and watch bats ingest thousands of insects…dreamy, isn't it?"

"What a shame that you're going to lose because I really think I would enjoy such an educational activity." Plucking her six tiles she grinned, "When_ I_ win, you know what you're going to have to do?"

Lining up his first play on his tile holder, he sighed, "If you feel like wasting your breath telling me about something that's never going to happen, go ahead."

"When I win, you're going to ask me to dance." She immediately saw terror flash in his eyes and played on it. "_In public._ And you will continue to dance the night away with me until I say I've had enough."

"Thank you for the extra motivation." He began laying out his first word. "Not that I needed any."

TROUBLE

"Ten points with a double word score makes it twenty, fifty bonus points for using all seven tiles in one play gives me a total of seventy points. Trouble...you're in it already." Jotting the score he snickered, "I hope you brought something warm to wear tonight."

"Why would I need something warm to wear when I'm dancing?" Eyeing her competition with a sultry gaze, she rasped, "I'll have your body pressed against me and that's always more than enough heat for me."

"Trying to distract me?"

"Is it working?"

"It would if I knew I _could _get lucky." He guzzled down the remaining champagne in his glass. "But since you made it clear that I'm in a regeneration holding pattern for twenty-four hours…I know you're bluffing and therefore am unmoved by your tawdry tactic."

Reviewing her pathetic letters once more, Sara feigned optimism. "I'm just letting you get ahead so when I crush you…it hurts twice as much."

TOES

"Playing the S on trouble gets me ten plus another five for toes for a total of fifteen. Toes…think you're going to step on mine when we're out dancing?"

"We'll never know." Wasting no time, he placed his word.

FRABJOUS

Instantly he saw her doubt twinkle in her eye. "What?" He asked in an innocent tone. "You're not seriously doubting it's a real word, are you?" Gaping at her, he shook his head. "If you challenge it, you'll humiliate yourself." Lifting the bottle of champagne, he refilled both of their glasses without saying another word. He didn't have to…the seed was planted and now her own mind would do the rest of the work.

"Frabjous?" Searching her mind she doubted its validity but then a little voice inside warned that she had heard the word somewhere before. Staring her opponent/husband down, she saw nothing but smug resilience in his eyes. Go with your first inclination! _Frabjous_ is probably something you heard Greg say in reference to his hair! Go with your initial gut feeling…that's how it always worked on tests. If it really isn't a word he'll never let you live it down. "I challenge."

"Splendid." Handing her the dictionary Grissom grinned uncontrollably.

Anxious, she flipped through the pages and when her eyes hit the word, she shrieked. "It means _splendid_!"

"I think I just said that." Raising his glass of bubbly, he remarked, "Frabjous…a combination of fabulous and joyful. Coined by Lewis Carroll in Through the Looking Glass." With verve he recited the quote. "'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'"

"Keep this up, Smarty Pants, and you might be leaving Tahoe alone again." Lifting her glass, she snarked, "Does that sound frabjous?"

"No…it sounds low," He remarked in a sullen tone as he averted his eyes.

Feeling terrible, Sara reached out and placed her hand on his. "I'm sorry…that really was low."

"Yeah…" He confirmed in a dejected voice right before he burst out laughing. "Like your _score_!"

"You bastard!" She shrieked while half-laughing. "I really thought I hurt your feelings!"

"That's called a bluff, Honey. It's as important in this game as an extensive vocabulary." Seeing her ire build, he reminded her, "You know that sizeable chunk of change we just spent on this cabin? Let's recall its humble beginnings…before investing…before interest."

Wrapping her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, she sighed, "Poker winnings."

"Yep." Reaching over he tapped his glass to hers. "Here's to my mastery of the bluff." After they sipped he sweetly said, "You know the one thing I've never been able to bluff? My feelings for you."

"Aww…what a frabjous thing to say!"

**Greg's Apartment  
****1:44 p.m. **

With her chin resting on Greg's chest, Tawny gazed into her lover's eyes. "That was…"

"…passion-fueled make up lovin'," He replied through a smile. "And while it was fantastic, I would rather have skipped the drama leading up to it because that was…"

"…scary."

"Yeah." Looping his arms around her, he pulled her closer until they were lying on their sides, their noses touching and their eyes connected. "But we're okay now."

With a lingering kiss they confirmed his statement.

"I just fell a little further," Greg whispered while stroking Tawny's hair.

Her smile filling the room, she slid out of his arms.

"Where are you going?" He asked in a puzzled tone.

Giggling, she replied, "If you're falling, I don't want to slow you down so I let go."

"You've got it all wrong," He informed her in a husky tone, as he snaked toward her. "All objects, regardless of their mass, free-fall with the same acceleration. So whether I'm alone or…" Covering her body with his, he lit up. "…or whether you're in my arms, I'm falling at the same speed."

Carried away by the intensity in his eyes, Tawny swooned. "Then I'd rather we be together every step of the way."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

**Outdoor World  
****Lake Tahoe  
****2:22 p.m.**

As Grissom stood at the counter waiting for the clerk to return, his cell phone rang. Breaking into a grin, he grabbed the phone ready to give or receive some ribbing. Then he saw it was Brass calling, but answered it anyway. "Grissom."

"So, she didn't kill you and throw you to the fishes."

"Disappointed?" He snipped.

"You must not be having too good a time or you wouldn't have answered the phone."

"For your information, I have my phone on because I'm out shopping for toys for my date with Sara tonight."

"Toys?" He chuckled. "That's funny…Heather told me you weren't into toys. Ha! I hope my yank of your chain didn't leave a mark around your neck. I wouldn't want you to have to explain it to the missus."

Mildly amused, Grissom retorted, "The mark around _my_ neck will pale in comparison to the one around _yours_ when Sara finds out who your mystery lady is before you manage to confess. Trust me…she has very strong hands."

"Like I was going to drop that bomb on her when she was already edgy." Sighing, he said, "All kidding aside for a minute, is everything okay?"

He responded in a sunny tone. "It's frabjous!"

"You sound like Scooby-Doo."

"Hold on a sec, Shaggy." After nodding at the clerk, Grissom pointed inside the glass case. "I need two of these night vision binoculars, thanks."

"Night vision binoculars?" Brass guffawed, "What the hell kind of role play are you planning? Which one of you gets to be the prey and run naked through the woods?"

Laughing at the erroneous interpretation, Grissom said, "Nice guess. Actually, we're going down to the beach tonight to watch bats ingest their weight in bugs."

After a moment of silence, Brass groaned, "If anyone else said that I'd think it was code for something kinky but coming from you…I believe it to be true."

"Sara lost a bet." He handed the clerk his credit card.

"And _that's_ what you came up with as your reward? Oh man…I would have thought Catherine coached you a little bit better, grasshopper."

Ready to move on, Grissom said, "Hey, thanks for calling to check up on us."

"Hold up, Batman, don't hang up the Bat Phone just yet. I have a business reason for calling too. When are you going to talk to Catherine about the supervisor position? I'm working on paperwork for your new position and I need a start date and a replacement."

"Oh…uh…I suppose I could call her from here. She's probably waiting to hear how things are going anyway."

"Call me back when you have answers, rrokay, Scooby?"

**Catherine's House  
****2:32 p.m.**

Lounging in bed, Warrick brought Catherine's cell phone to his ear. "Hey Gris, how's it goin' in Tahoe?"

"Great! Thanks for asking. How are things at home?"

A smile smoothing over his lips, Warrick replied in a satiated tone, "Oh…I've got everything under control."

"Is Catherine around? I have to run some work stuff by her."

"Uh…I know she's dying to talk to you. Yeah…the curiosity is killin' her. If she could, I'm sure she'd snatch the phone from me and ask you a bunch of questions." Trying not to laugh as he watched his significant other squirm, he said, "But…she's tied up right now."

After a moment of silence, Grissom replied, "Why do I get the feeling you don't mean that metaphorically? Uh…okay…have her call my cell when she's free."

**Greg's Apartment  
****3:25 p.m. **

While Greg slept in the bedroom, Tawny straightened up the rest of the apartment while watching TLC's Perfect Proposal, a reality show devoted to the planning and surprise execution of the ideal marriage proposal.

Taking a seat on the couch, she watched the show's finale…the romantic proposal on the beach as the sun set across the water. The boyfriend's heartfelt words incited tears of joy from his girlfriend's eyes and as he slipped the ring on her finger, she boomed, 'Yes!'. It was perfect…just perfect.

Tawny's eyes veered to the two DNA reports still on the cushions from this morning's incident. Four weeks seemed like an eternity and the odds, while 99 percent in Greg's favor, brought no comfort at all. Having been on the losing side of every equation in her life thus far, it was impossible for her to visualize a positive outcome.

Her eyes returned to the TV screen and the sheer bliss on the newly engaged girl's face. And while she watched the euphoric scene, a particular line from Greg's DNA tutorial popped up in her mind. _99 percent of the code is the same for every human. Only 1 percent makes us unique. _That's why he's so worried, she thought…as a DNA Specialist he knows better than anyone how significant 1 percent is sometimes. In four weeks she'd know if her story would be unique.

The TV announcer's voice caught her ear. _First comes love, then the proposal, then A Wedding Story! Coming up next on TLC...one happy couple prepares for their big day. But can they survive the planning stage?_

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment**

**4:37 p.m. **

Trying to balance a bag of groceries, a bottle of champagne and a dozen red roses, Nick opened the front door and stumbled inside.

"What are you doing home so early?" Carried shrieked from the kitchen. "I came home early to make you a surprise romantic dinner!"

Clutching his purchases, he announced, "I left right after shift so I could go shopping and cook _you_ a surprise romantic dinner!"

"Awww." Wiping her hands on her sauce covered apron, she rushed him with open arms and over the pile Nick was holding, she snatched a quick kiss. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch last night!"

Setting down the bag and the bottle, he scooped her up with his free arm. "And I'm sorry I was such an insensitive ass. Instead of trying to BS my way through, I should have told you I had a stressful day and wasn't in the mood to talk about wedding stuff. I was having a _really _hard time on the job yesterday."

"Why do you insist on you holding this stuff in? It's not healthy. If you keep doing it, one day you'll explode," She chided as she poked him in the ribs. "I'm your future wife. You don't always have to be Smooth Stokes you know. What are you afraid of? That I'm going to give the ring back if I find out you bleed like the rest of us humans?"

"I don't know…I just feel like it's my job to keep it together for you…to suck it up and leave it at the door." Shrugging, he released a heavy sigh. "I never saw my dad come home from court and dump cases on my mom."

"Just because you didn't _see _it, doesn't mean it didn't happen." A devious smile emerged. "Did you see your parents having sex seven times?"

"No!" He felt a blush creep over his cheeks. "Not once, thank you very much."

"And yet they had seven kids? Hmm…" Taking the bouquet of roses from his hands, she shook her head. "Have you connected the dots yet, Sweetie?" Winking she said, "Have a seat and think about it while I put these gorgeous flowers in water and grab my big tough cowboy a light beer."

Collapsing against the couch cushions he said, "I'm guessin' you're lookin' for a little deductive reasoning, Counsel?"

Across the room, filling a vase with water, Carrie nodded. "Go for it."

"My parents had seven children. We weren't adopted and the stork doesn't exist. They had sex, I just didn't see it. Even though I didn't _see_ my dad vulnerable after a hard day at the office and leaning on my mom for support, doesn't mean he didn't do it in private."

"Very good." She placed the roses in the middle of the dining table and delivered Nick's beer. "Thank you for the beautiful flowers."

"You're welcome. Thank you for the drink and the forgiveness." While guzzling, he patted his lap, inviting her. "Okay…let me hear that voice of reason that made me fall in love with you the first night we met."

Snuggling into his arms, she softly said, "Your parents protected you from dealing with their adult burdens and that was a wonderful gift. Some of the kids I work with are witnesses to everything their parents do…they see them empty bottles of vodka, shoot up heroin, listen to them call each other horrible names, watch them fight and beat each other. Some of these kids are scarred for life." Smoothing her hand across his cheek, she smiled. "You're unscarred, but I think you also have a false sense of reality because your parents did such a tremendous job of hiding _everything_ from you. You have almost a Stepford mentality about what a husband should be…perfect all the time. I don't expect you to be perfect all the time, Nick. I expect you to be human."

"I love you, Baby." Cinching his arms around her he smoothed a loving kiss over the delicate curve of her lips.

"Tell me why you were having a hard day yesterday." She steadied him with her eyes.

"It's like this…some cases aren't upsetting at all. You know…the ones where there are no real victims. Some affect you because you'd have to be inhuman not to feel anything for the victim and others rock you to the core. Everyone has their triggers on the job." Settling back with her arms firmly planted around him, he said, "Kids…you know they affect everyone, even Grissom loses it when the vic is a kid. For Sara, it's rape and domestic violence that sets her off."

Nodding she said, "Makes sense considering her family background."

"Yeah." He paused to fill his lungs before continuing. " Right now, Greg's having a hard time handling brutality no matter who the victim is…it's like he can't handle knowing people can be so animalistic. He'll get used to it. You learn people are capable of incredible darkness…some seem born that way and others turn if the conditions are right." Tilting his bottle he took a long sip.

Making sure he knew she was listening, she said, "I've seen enough in my work to empathize. Sometimes I wonder, if the average person knew what was hiding out there would they ever leave home? Luckily, the animals are a small minority."

"Well, one of the small minority spent some time at Dirk's Motel yesterday." Swallowing hard, he told her, "I have several triggers, one of which is young girls who get caught up in a life they can't escape and wind up dead. When we arrived on the scene yesterday, we found what was left of a sixteen year old prostitute." His voice shook. "Some girl from Nebraska who stopped in Vegas to make some money before moving to LA and ended up spending twenty four hours in hell before she was finally allowed to die." Sorrow echoed in his voice. "It took hours just to…damn…"

"It's okay." Carrie rescued him and when he was ready, she asked, "Did you catch the animal?"

Nodding, Nick forced the words out. "Got a hit on CODIS around noon. He's off the streets."

"Nice work." She smiled proudly.

Eyes hooked on one another, their connection deepened.

Finally, Carrie lightened the mood. "Kind of nice dropping a little weight off those big shoulders, huh Tex?"

"Kind of nice having someone around to listen."

Winking, she remarked, "I believe it's one of the perks of marriage…along with the more obvious ones."

"I'm looking forward to making it official." Taking her left hand, he kissed her ring.

Looking him straight in the eyes, she asked, "You want to bag dinner and find a chapel?"

"What?" He studied her face. "You aren't serious! No! You're only saying that because I've been so antsy. I'm not believing that's what you really want…not for a minute because, Baby…spontaneity is _so_ not your thing!"

"Not usually but…" Shrugging, she jumped off his lap. "…I'm in a crazy mood right now! Let's do it!"

"Get back here, Missy." Taking her hand, he yanked her down on the couch. "I know having a real wedding means a lot to you and your family…and my family. Hell, according to your brother, you've been planning a wedding since you were a little girl dressing up in your mama's old veil."

"There's photo evidence of that I'm afraid!" She giggled in humiliation. "I dressed my dog up as a flower girl. I'm pathetic…I've even been watching A Wedding Story on TV. Do you think I'll be disbarred if the County Officials find out I'm watching sappy reality TV?"

"See…that's what I'm talking about." Tossing her hair off her shoulder, he vowed, "No chapel for us…we're going to do this the old fashioned way. Someone in this town has to be traditional! I promise I will tell you when I'm not in the mood to talk napkins, alright?"

Happy he was getting into it, she quizzed, "Soooo…which color do you like? Crimson or lilac?"

With conviction, he replied, "I like the second choice."

"Really?" She wrinkled her nose. "Because I was thinking crimson."

Remembering the other line Betty gave him Nick enthused, "Then let's go with your choice because you have much better taste than me, Darlin'!"

* * *


	16. Batting a Thousand

"**Batting a Thousand"**

**August 11, 2005 (Day 111)  
****Shoreline Cabins  
****5:17 p.m. **

As the perfectly warm and sunny summer afternoon slipped away, the honeymooners lay head to toe in the luxurious hammock Gil had purchased at the outdoor store. Each still clutching the books they were reading, they had nodded off without warning…the balmy breeze off the lake providing just enough movement to maintain the gentle rock of the hammock and lull them into a deep sleep. A slumber so sound, Gil barely roused in time to answer his cell phone. "Grissom," He announced in a voice thick with sleep.

"Did I wake you?" Catherine asked in a perky tone.

"Uh…" Noticing Sara's peaceful state, he answered in a whisper, "Yes, and Sara is still sleeping so I have to keep it down."

"Why don't you go to another room, Stud?" She cackled. "Or does she have you so worn out from deploying the troops that you can't retreat?"

Smiling, he told the truth, knowing she'd love hearing they were doing something whimsical. "I can't, because we're in a hammock and if I try to peel myself out of it I'll send her flying."

"A hammock? Atta boy!" She snickered, "Very romantic. Tied to trees by the beach?"

"No, on a stand in our backyard."

"_Your_ backyard?"

"Well…it won't be official until next month but…" He beamed as he watched the gentle rise and fall of his wife's chest. "We bought a cabin on a nice piece of property by the lake. It's going to be our place to come and decompress."

"_That_ was your plan? Show up in Tahoe and buy her a cabin as a peace offering? That had to set you back half a million. Ugh…I thought you were done with the Sugar Daddy approach? What would your therapist say? Ha! Do you know how many years I've been waiting to say…Gil, what would your therapist say? Now I can!"

"I'm so glad I've made one of your fantasies come true. Look…_we _bought the cabin together _after_ she forgave me. My therapist will love the idea…she thinks I need to utilize some of the twenty four weeks of vacation I've accumulated." Savoring the delicious fresh air, he sighed, "Sara and I made some nice memories here and…"

"The make-up sex was that good, huh? Awww…first-timers…you thought it was so mind blowing that it drove you to buy the place. Cute."

Thinking he wasn't giving anything away, he added, "No…we also enjoyed the lake and…"

"No way!" She laughed skeptically into the phone. "You got the germ-phobe naked in a lake? Wow…she really must have missed you. Hey, I bet you enjoyed that…all those bugs buzzing around in the great outdoors while you…"

"Enough about me." He squirmed in the hammock. "When I called earlier…"

"Sorry about that," She chuckled. "I was uh…doing a little making up of my own. This supervisor role isn't good for my personal life."

The wrench she just threw into his plan caused him to stammer. "Well…funny you should say that because I was calling to tell you that I'm taking a new position at the lab, one that will allow Sara and I to have the same hours and I was planning on offering you my old job. You don't have to apply because we're within department timeframe for pulling from the applications I had all of you fill out when I was selecting someone for the Days position."

"Oh. Wow…I can't believe you're moving on. Something bigger and better I hope."

"Yes. Non-supervisory analysis to get the lab back to number two." Sensing her hesitation, he offered, "Look…take all the time you need and…"

"No…I need to turn it down. Things are going too well here…today being an exception," She chuckled briefly. "I don't want to screw this up, especially not for Lindsay. She needs Warrick just as much as I do. It's weird…I turn into a different person when I'm in the supervisor role. And, because you know I have to think about _me_…supervising sucks the fun out of the job for me. So, thanks but no thanks."

Glancing up at sky, he considered his options. "You know who my next choice is…you think you could handle that?"

"It might be good for me…then again, it could be a disaster. In any case, my feelings shouldn't factor in before you make the offer. You need to make the offer and then he can talk to me…at least I hope he would."

"Understood."

"So what are you two lovebirds going to do tonight now that you're rested? You promised to be more open with me, remember? So dish!"

Lighting up, he relayed the exciting details. "We're heading down to the beach to watch bats eat their body weight in insects. They eat a thousand insects an hour and it's quite amazing to witness. I bought night vision binoculars so we don't miss a thing."

"Please tell me that's some kind of code."

With pride, he explained, "No, it's the truth. It's my reward for winning at Scrabble earlier today."

"Gil…I think I know why Sara's not pregnant yet."

**Carrie and Nick's Apartment  
****6:01 p.m. **

Under the bedcovers, Nick and Carrie worked on their second bottle of champagne while leafing through bridal magazines and chomping on food from two different surprise romantic meals.

Giddy from the bubbly, Carrie remarked, "This is a very eclectic dinner…stuffed mushrooms, egg rolls, cream puffs and strawberries."

"I'm loving it," Nick announced as he brought another strawberry to his fiancée's mouth. "It's part of the wedding planning…well, the honeymoon planning anyway." Stopping to kiss the juice dripping onto her chin from a bitten strawberry, he came up chuckling. "For the record, I will plan and practice the honeymoon portion of the event _any _time you want because I think it's very important that we get it right."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Honey."

"Not a problem," He growled as he dove in to clean up another non-accidental strawberry juice spill.

"Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?" Her mind raced with the possibilities…exotic islands, romantic hideaways…

"The stars, Baby," He teased, knowing he'd be chided for not being serious. "With a side trip to the moon."

"Seriously!" She playfully shoved him away. "If we want to get the best deals we need to book well in advance."

"Planner!" He groaned.

"Player!" She snapped.

"Come on…you expect me to think when I'm totally relaxed from passion-fueled make-up lovin' and feeling the bubbly?"

"Passion-fueled make-up lovin?" She shook with laughter. "Where did you get that ridiculous phrase?"

"Sanders." He burst out laughing. "But I swear that's the _only _thing I gleaned from him when it comes to women. Hell, I taught him everything he knows." Nuzzling into Carrie's neck, he growled, "Tawny should personally thank me."

Peeling him away, she sneered, "Uh, Love Professor, did Greg sleep through your lecture on birth control or did you skip that one?"

Shaking his head, he informed her of the cold hard facts. "Hey…I can only share my knowledge, I can't enforce it."

"You think he's going to handle the responsibility of fatherhood? Do you think he'll marry Tawny?" Tilting her champagne flute, she gulped until she needed to come up for air.

Not enthused about the subject, Nick groaned, "Baby, why are we talking about Greggo when we're naked in bed?"

"Don't you care about your friend?" She sighed, "He's already been irresponsible twice…getting Tawny pregnant and getting into a brawl that almost cost him his job. I'm worried for the baby…it's one of my _triggers,_ to use your word. I've seen too many abuse cases stemming from unwanted pregnancies."

"I do care…really…just not when I'm in bed with my fiancée practicing for our honeymoon. But for the record, yes, I think Greg will step up to the plate. He's a good guy…in spite of the image he projects with that ridiculous hair." He returned to smothering her with champagne induced kisses.

"We should have them over and show our support."

Nick collapsed against the sheets. "Most women would appreciate the fact their fiancé is still awake at this point."

"Sorry!" Rolling onto her side, she explained, "Tawny called me this afternoon. Last week I gave her my card and told her to call me any time she needed someone to listen. Today, she called."

"What did she say?"

"I can't tell you," She announced while snagging another stuffed mushroom. "I have to respect her privacy."

"Wait…you insist on talking about this and then when I engage in the conversation, you say you can't tell me?" Shaking his head, he pleaded, "Can we go back to talking about napkins because at least I understood that conversation."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****6:22 p.m. **

**  
**Standing at the kitchen counter chopping mushrooms, Gil periodically glanced over at Sara setting the table for dinner. "Still smarting from the loss?"

"A _loss _I could handle," She half-laughed while cinching her pink robe tighter. "A humiliating ass-whooping by _four hundred points_ is harder to swallow than that whole raw trout you have splayed on the counter. You got all the great letters…X, Q, Z…while I faced an endless parade of E's, A's and O's. I still can't believe I challenged you on gneiss because you said it was a female relative of a gnat. You made it sound like such bullshit."

"Pretty cute, huh?" He was proud of himself.

Sara on the other hand, wasn't amused. "I didn't expect you to bluff on the meaning of a _real_ word just to get me to doubt it. Gneiss…granitelike rock, I'll never forget that one now! Ugh! You and your bluffing skills…you had me so off balance I didn't even know what I really knew anymore." Sniffing her arm, she moaned, "I just took a shower but the stench of embarrassment is still clinging to me."

"Don't worry…" Picking up a lemon, he assured her, "…I won't tell anyone. It will be our secret that I'm the indisputable Scrabble King and you're blown away by my bluffing prowess."

Placing the silverware on the table, she groaned, "Thank you for your mercy, Your Highness. After I finish setting the table I'll start scrubbing the floors so they're worthy of you walking on them."

Squeezing lemons into the sauté pan, he sweetly scolded, "Hey, even though I'm royalty, I'm still cooking you a very nice dinner, Cinderella." From across the room, Gil's cell phone rang and he asked, "Can you grab that, Honey, my hands are covered in juice."

Knowing that he was waiting for a call, she hustled to the phone. When she saw it was Warrick's cell, she grinned and answered, "Sorry, your boss can't come to the phone right now, he's too busy catering to my every whim."

"As it should be."

"Actually, he's catering dinner and his hands are covered in lemon juice. Pretty studly, huh?" Crossing the room she saw Gil wiping his hands on a dish rag. "But he's cleaning up his act so hold on." Handing over the phone, she said, "I'll chop the veggies while you take care of business." When she saw his momentary grimace, she snipped, "Oh please…I'm not going to ruin the meal slicing mushrooms and artichokes! And don't even think about standing here supervising."

Slinking away, Gil put the phone to his ear, "Hey, Warrick. You make a decision already?" Checking his watch he noted only a half hour had passed since he made the offer.

"Yes, I've talked it over with Catherine and…I'm going to take the job."

"Fantastic."

From the kitchen, Sara yelled, "Don't you mean _frabjous_, Your Majesty!"

While throwing his wife a look, he said, "I'll feel much better leaving the team knowing it's in your hands, Warrick. And I trust that you and Catherine will be able to uh…work things out in your own special way so your work life doesn't interfere with your personal one."

"No worries. We'll handle it."

Circling back toward Sara, Grissom said, "I'll call Brass and let him know you've accepted with an August 22nd start date. We'll work out the transition details when I'm back in the office Saturday night." Stealthily, or so he thought, he peered at Sara's vegetable handiwork but was promptly busted.

"I'm looking forward to it, Gris. Now I'll let you get back to your honeymoon."

"Good idea." He smiled directly at Sara. "So Warrick, you've got the shift tonight and tomorrow instead of Catherine. Good luck, I'll see you Saturday…unless you're tied up."

"Bye!" Sara shouted into the phone for the both of them and when Gil tossed it on the counter she sneered, "You had to come and check out my chopping, didn't you? What is it with you and your anal-retentive cooking phobia?"

From behind, he slipped his arms around her waist and joked, "I guess I'll have to blame my mother for that too. She taught me how to cook."

"She did a great job, you're an excellent cook." She was pleased he didn't take over her slicing. "But when you pass the talent onto our child, I'd appreciate you chilling out just a tad."

"Deal." After moving her hair off her neck, he sprinkled tantalizing kisses.

"Okay, now if I mess up the chopping I'll blame you for distracting me." When he continued his amorous assault, she shook her head. "If you think I'm going to let you…" When he found her ear lobe, she whimpered, "Come on…you know we need to wait because…"

Murmuring in her ear, he corrected, "**_I_** need to wait…but you don't."

A smile exploded on her face as he tugged at the belt of her robe. "How noble of you," She giggled from the light touch of his fingertips on her waist. "Wait a minute, Scrabble King…is this another one of your infamous bluffs?"

Without saying a word, he assured her it wasn't.

**Greg's Apartment  
****8:59 p.m. **

"Time to wake up, Greg," Tawny whispered in his ear as she hovered over him. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep in her arms earlier and when she slipped away around three, she didn't set the alarm for his usual eight o'clock rise and shine.

"Hey," He groggily greeted as he stretched. "Is it eight already?"

"Nine actually. I let you sleep in because I know you only get up at eight to hang with me a little longer before leaving for work." She kissed his cheek. "Your shower's heatin' up and there's a Subway sandwich in the fridge for dinner."

Sitting up, he smiled, "Thanks."

"Are you sure you won't let me find a night shift job?" She thought she would ask one more time. "Don't you think it would be so much better to be on the same schedule? The cocktail uniforms at some of the casinos are pretty tasteful and…"

"Nooooo." He shook his head vehemently. "Besides…the smoke from the casinos is bad for the baby. I don't want my kid popping out jonesin' for a Marlboro."

His use of the term _my kid_ brought a smile to her face. "What about a less risqué place? Like a hospital? They have night shifts. The money wouldn't be as good as waitressing or cocktailing but…"

After considering the option, he said, "That I could handle."

"Good." Proud for coming up with an acceptable alternative, she smiled. "I'll look online for job openings while you're working." Taking his hand she yanked him out of bed. "Now hit the shower."

**Lake Tahoe  
****9:31 p.m. **

Snuggled in their double-seat portable lawn chair on the beach, Gil and Sara had everything a couple of bat watchers needed…warm clothes, blankets, hot cocoa, night vision binoculars, a shared passion for science, and a sense of humor.

Focusing her binoculars, Sara enthused, "I'm not even going to pretend this isn't totally cool. I'm embracing my inner-geek and unapologetically admitting I'm having a swell time watching bats ingest bugs on my honeymoon."

Filling her cup with steaming cocoa, Gil radiated with satisfaction. "I'm pretty sure only die-hard geeks still use the term _swell,_ so I think you would have outed yourself anyway." Lowering her binoculars, he handed her the cup. "Cheers."

"Is it spiked?" She inquired through a devilish grin.

"You tell me."

Gingerly she took a sip. "Holy Hot Toddy Batman!" She exclaimed in the style of the old TV series. "_What_ did you put in here? Is there even cocoa in here?"

Laughing at her nostalgic Batman lingo, he replied, "Chocolate liqueur, Hazelnut liqueur and brandy. The cocoa is just the binding agent."

"As if I wasn't relaxed enough from the um…_consolation prize_ you treated me to earlier, followed up by a delicious dinner…now you're filling my veins with this heavenly treat while we sit under the stars watching bats fill their guts." Caressing his cheek, she chuckled, "You really are The King."

"And I'm not done surprising you yet," He taunted. "I have a little more self-sacrificing to do by the end of the night."

"Really, Honey," She choked on her cocoa. "You did such a frabjous job the first time I'm quite sated so…"

"Not that." He laughed before downing a big swig from his mug.

"Oh." She raised her binoculars and tried not to obsess over what he was planning. "I'm going to hate going home tomorrow. This vacation thing is fun."

Scanning the skies, he sighed, "I feel the same way."

Jokingly, she said, "Let's quit and rough it, living off the land…and our multi-million dollar bank account." Loving the warmth of her drink, she downed it with vigor.

"You wouldn't last a month," He replied. "You'd be in the woods trying to solve animal murders and printing raccoons to nail them for breaking and entering trash cans."

"I could set up CODIS for wildlife," She mused in between sips of cocoa. "Do you know how many female animals are victimized each year? It's about time the Alpha Males got what's coming to them."

"And you're just the gal to do it." He smiled easily. "How do you think you're going to deal with maternity leave? Or being away from the field in the latter half of your pregnancy?"

"I think I'll be able to deal with the field ban because, even though it's not as exciting, I know I can do just as much in the lab to help as I can in the field." Settling further into his arms, she pondered the other half of the question. "Three months seems like an eternity away from the job but it's hard to know how I'll feel once I hold our baby in my arms. Sometimes I think the moment will come and it will still feel unnatural…that it won't click with me. Other times I think it will be so overpowering I won't want to do anything else. I'm hoping for middle ground…it feels perfect but it doesn't consume me to the point that I can't focus on work. You know my work is a part of me. If I stopped, I'd feel lost."

"Obviously I can empathize since technically I could have retired on my investments years ago." Kissing the top of her head, he said, "I'm not worried about motherhood not clicking for you. Your maternal instinct, while unpracticed, is quite strong. I see it every time we deal with cases involving children."

"What do you worry about?" She asked while closing her eyes and enjoying the intimacy.

"The paramount worry of any father is providing. Look no further than my own father to prove that…he became a workaholic to provide for his family and prove his father wrong. It's instinctual to want to take care of your offspring."

"You've got that covered."

"Financially yes, but I also want to stick around long enough and be physically able to be there. Starting out so late I realize it won't be the same experience for me as it will be for Greg or Nick."

"That's why we're getting you healthy and less-stressed, right?"

"Right." He squeezed her closer. "Which allows me to focus on the other worries."

Sensing his hesitation, she prodded, "Such as?"

"For one thing, I worry that I'll never be able to let our child out of the house because I know what lurks out there…not just in the shadows but on the playgrounds and in neighborhood houses." Resting his head on hers, he lowered his voice, "How are we going to block that out enough to let our child live a normal life?"

"I've thought of that too and I'm afraid I don't have an answer. Let's jot that one down to ask Dr. Myers."

"When in doubt…"

"Ask your therapist!" Pointing to the sky she lurched and drew her binoculars, "Bat at two o'clock!"

"And he's hungry," He remarked in an excited tone.

The hot toddy kicking in, Sara giggled, "I think our child will love coming here to watch bats scarf! How lucky will he be to have a dad as creative as you!"

"You think?"

"Hell, yes. Running after a football is a mindless waste of time but this…this is science…and science existed well before a bunch of Neanderthals started tossing pigskin." She searched the skies for more bats as she excitedly spoke. "And science, in all its glory, is the only thing that will exist when this world as we know it blows apart. And after it does…science will continue on. So I ask again…what kid needs football when he has science?"

"Not our little geek offspring," He replied, knowing she was trying to allay his concern and loving her for it. "But he will need self-defense training."

"Hell, we have plenty of money. Let's hire him his own personal bodyguard! That way, he won't get harassed going to Chemistry Club on his way back from his latest Chess victory while carrying a backpack full of books. No one is going to give our future Nobel Prize winning child a hard time! Boris the Bodyguard will make sure of it."

Gaping at her, Gil offered his opinion. "I was thinking more along the lines of good verbal negotiation skills and Tae Kwon Do."

"That works too." She winked. "I blame my maternal instinct for getting carried away."

**Crime Lab  
****Garage  
****11:17 p.m. **

With Warrick working the front seat of the Mercedes that he was assigned by Catherine to process that morning, and Greg working the back, they were making excellent progress.

"So, Warrick, you're sure everything's cool between Grissom and Sara?"

"Definitely." He snickered, "They're in full honeymoon mode in Tahoe."

"Excellent," Greg remarked while tape lifting. "Hey…can I run something by you and you promise to keep it between us? Not even Catherine."

"Sure, man." He kept his eyes on the dashboard, combing for evidence.

"This morning on changeover, I heard Trey from Days mention to Nina that he was looking to switch shifts to either Swing or Grave. Nina said she was going to put in a bid and beat him to the punch because she wanted to go back to school for her Master's during the day."

"And this has you concerned?" Warrick asked wondering why Greg would care about Trey and Nina's problem.

"No…it got me thinking." Stopping to pick up a fiber, he waited until it was bagged to start talking again. "Tawny really wants me working the same hours as her, so I was considering swapping with Nina." Concern dominating his voice, he asked, "How do you think Grissom would take it? Do you think he would be disappointed that I'm bailing on him?" Conflicted, he confessed, "I'm really torn because, no offense to Nick, I know I can learn the most technically if I stay with Gris, but I have to think of Tawny's needs and the baby's…working Grave makes a normal family life kind of hard. So…I'd like your unbiased opinion."

"Uh…" Technically he wasn't the supervisor yet, but Warrick was already facing his first personnel dilemma. The thought of his team containing Catherine, Nina and Sofia, the ultimate diva trio, made him shiver. On the other hand, he would need to fill his own spot and at least now he wouldn't have to worry about hiring because if Greg swapped with Nina and Trey wanted on Nights too, they'd be full. Plus, everyone would be CSI 3, which would make for the most experienced team in the lab. Nick, on the other hand, would have two entry level CSIs…Jas and Greg. Plus, Greg had a flagged personnel file because of his fight with Hodges. Also, if Sara got pregnant she would be restricted in the lab and the field, which would leave Nick with only one experienced and fully deployable person, Pete, a CSI 3.

From the look on Warrick's face, Greg knew there was a problem. "You think Grissom would be upset, don't you?"

"No…uh…I think he'll be fine with the decision." Warrick nodded confidently. "Cath told me Gris has a real soft spot for Tawny, so if you go in with that angle I'm sure he'll agree it's a good call."

"Thanks, Warrick." Greg nodded. "I'll talk to him as soon as he returns from his _belated _honeymoon."

"Hey…it's never a bad time for a honeymoon." He snickered, "Hell, Cath and I aren't even married and we've had two already. She has special white lingerie she only wears on our honeymoon nights…makes me weak in the knees."

"You guys really are kind of weird," Greg quipped.

"Who's not?" Stepping out of the car and yanking off his latex gloves, he said, "You know what Sara and Grissom are doing tonight on their honeymoon? Going down to the beach to watch bats eat bugs through night vision binoculars."

"Really?" Greg backed out of the car. "I've always wanted to do that!" Then he saw Warrick's reaction and realized he was losing serious cool points. "But not on my honeymoon. I uh…would choose the white lingerie thing you were talking about."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****11:57 p.m. **

After stowing their outdoor gear in the garage, Sara and Gil, buzzing from a combination of seriously spiked cocoa and successful bat watching, hurried into the cabin. And with plans to cozy up in front of the fireplace, they wasted no time tossing logs in and starting a roaring blaze.

What Sara didn't know was that her husband had a special surprise for her. And in a symmetrical twist, Gil, likewise, didn't know his wife had a pleasant surprise for him. Both were waiting for the right opportunity to spring theirs.

"I had a great time tonight," Sara announced in liqueur-fueled honeymoon euphoria.

"Me too." His smile turned to a chuckle. "This is funny, I feel like we're dating. I don't know whether or not to go for the kiss goodnight."

"Do you have to say goodnight already?" She flirtatiously replied while placing her hands on his hips. "My curfew isn't for another hour."

Getting into the spirit, he checked his watch. "That gives us plenty of time. There's something I want to ask you…"

"No, I've never gone all the way." Try as she might, she burst out laughing. "Sorry…I'm a terrible actress."

"I wouldn't say that." Her laughter was contagious and he caught it. "Your recurring role as Boom Boom is Emmy worthy in my book." Taking her hand he said, "Anyway…I want you to be my wife tonight."

Catching her breath, she inquired, "What was your _real_ question?"

"Well…as we both know, you lost at Scrabble today, so this evening we did what I selected, instead of what you wanted…dancing in public." Letting go of her hand he crossed the room, turned on the small stereo on the shelf and fished out a CD case from behind it, displaying it for Sara.

"That has our song on it!" She excitedly announced.

"I tracked it down when I was out shopping." Feeling confident her answer would be yes, he asked, "Will you dance with me?"

"No."

Stunned, he blurted, "No?"

"I mean _yes_…just not right this second." Holding up a hand, she explained, "I have a surprise for you too. Wait right here."

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." With curious eyes he watched her scurry into the bedroom and shut the door.

Ten minutes later he began to wonder if she had passed out on the bed. "Sara?" He called while tapping on the door.

"Just one more minute! Why don't you um…go toss another log on the fire?"

"Okay." Relieved she wasn't asleep, he strolled over to the fireplace and did as requested. Once the log was in place, he retrieved the poker and mindlessly stoked the flames while waiting for his wife to emerge.

"Sorry I took so long," Sara greeted in a raspy voice as she stood behind her husband.

From his position, squatting in front of the fire, he turned and when he did, his eyes happened upon a sea of virginal white silk. His attention captured, his gaze headed due north and was pleased to encounter…heavenly lace…an elegant bodice dotted with pearls…delicate straps and Sara's gleaming smile. "Wow," Was all he could manage as he soaked it all in. While he was familiar with his wife's 'sexy' look in lacy underwear or a certain red dress; her 'cuddly' look in her comfy pajamas or favorite pink robe; and her 'sinful' look when she broke out the La Perla every now and then…he had _never_ seen her 'innocent feminine' look. "Wow," He repeated as he stood before her, glancing at the plunging back of the gown and the way her hair delicately cascaded over her shoulders.

"I went shopping too," She grinned wildly in response to his reaction. "It's from the bridal sleepwear collection. Even though we've been _unofficially_ married for months and _legally _married for _exactly_ two weeks…Happy Anniversary by the way…"

"Happy Anniversary," He repeated as he was swept further away by her beauty.

"Even though we've already consummated our relationship, have tried to make a baby several times, and have been on our honeymoon for two days, I decided to declare tonight…our wedding night." Feeling rather confident his answer would be yes, she asked, "If that's alright with you." When he didn't reply, she nudged him. "Honey?"

"Sorry…what was the question?"

Amused by his blissful stupor, she replied, "I asked if it's okay that we declare tonight our wedding night."

Looking like the cat who ate the canary, he nodded, "I think that's a frabjous idea." Then he remembered the ban. "But I'm in a holding pattern until tomorrow."

Taking his hand, she pointed to his watch. "It's after midnight," She purred, "it is tomorrow. I'd love that dance now."

Hand in hand they walked over to the stereo and Gil eagerly pressed play. "You look amazing, Sara," He whispered as he pulled her into his arms, enjoying the feel of silk under his hands. "Thank you for this."

Sweetly she replied, "Thank you for the compliment and for asking me to dance."

As they swayed to the familiar song, they focused on the joy in each other's eyes.

Bringing his forehead to hers, Gil whispered, "Here's to no more nights without the one I need."

"I'll dance to that." Sara eased into his body letting his arms wrap as tightly as possible.

Everything about the moment fueled his senses…the scent of sugar cookies on her creamy skin, the feel of her sensuous gown, the vision of her dressed just for him, and the sound of her purring in his ear. For the second time since his arrival, Gil was overcome with emotion-fired passion. "I love you, Sara," He breathed against her lips before burning a kiss into them.

"This could be _the_ moment," She breathlessly exclaimed, while he whisked her to the bedroom. And as they fell against the sheets, Sara released her amorous reply, "I love you, too."

**August 12, 2005 (Day 112)  
****Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes' Office  
****6:47 a.m. **

"I love Krispy Kremes!" Nick rejoiced as Greg tossed the box on his pal's desk. "Donuts and you're giving me four hours to help out my backlog. Thanks, man."

"I was coming back from the field and made a sugar run. Thought I'd share the wealth." He took a seat and grabbed a glazed donut from the box. "I uh…also wanted to talk to you about something. Just between you and me, okay?"

"Is this about Tawny?" Nick asked after swallowing half a donut. "By the way, I am supposed to invite the two of you over for brunch Sunday. Think you can make it?"

"Yeah…Tawny is working at three on Sunday so as long as it's earlier in the day."

Wiping his hands on a napkin, Nick answered, "Carrie said eleven-thirty, will that work?"

"Perfect."

"Sorry…what did you want to talk to me about?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Greg dove right in. "Tawny really wants me on the same work schedule with her. I think it would best if I worked Days because I'm not crazy about the idea of her working at night. So I was thinking…just in case an opening comes up on your team, I'm going to put in a bid. If it's okay with you that is…if you'd want me on your team." Tensing he waited for a reply.

"I'd love to have you on my team, Greggo," Nick boomed. "And your timing is perfect because Nina just left here telling me she put in a bid for a spot on Grave."

"Really?" Greg feigned surprise. "Cool! And thanks for wanting me on your team."

"You run this by Grissom yet?"

"No, I'm going to catch him first thing when he gets back from his honeymoon." He chuckled, "I'm thinking he'll be in a really good mood."

**Shoreline Cabins  
****9:14 a.m. **

Lounging in bed wearing his favorite blue pajama bottoms and a dopey grin, Grissom waited for the news of the day.

To pass the time, he reflected on the last twenty-four hours. A damn near perfect period of time…no, he changed his mind…it was perfect…absolute perfection…no matter what he did, it turned out well. He batted a thousand.

"Guess whaaat?" Sara sang as she emerged from the bathroom. "The handy dandy ovulation predictor indicates I've moved into the _high _fertility zone. Last night was great timing."

"Among other things," He replied with satisfaction saturating his voice.

Thrilled with the forward movement, she continued sharing her plans. "High fertility should switch to _peak_ fertility by Sunday. Soooo we need to give it another go late tonight and then go for bull's-eye on Sunday."

"We'll be on a plane tonight." Wiggling his brows, he teased, "Too bad gravity would work against us standing, because I've been having that fantasy about you since we had that little chat on the subject while processing that case what…five years ago? Six?"

"Oh really?" Taking a seat on the bed, she needled, "Tell me more."

"You don't remember?" He was floored. "You remember everything! How could you forget…"

"I remember it perfectly," She assured him. "I just never heard your thoughts."

"Oh I had plenty of thoughts," He laughed. "Why the hell do you think I bolted out of there? I had to walk around the terminal and cool off. Hell, every time I flew somewhere for a conference after that, I thought about it." Seeing her amusement building, he added, "You were such a little vixen about it too. And then you tried to downplay it like you were shy. Drove me crazy, not to mention fueled my fantasies." Curious, he asked, "Was it really as bad as you said, or did you just say that for my benefit?"

Cracking up, she fell against her pillow.

"What?" Baffled, he loomed over her. "What's so funny?"

Gasping for air she informed him, "I never had sex on a plane in my life!"

Confused, he stammered, "But…you said…"

"I was **_bluffing_**!" She shouted, thrilled that she had bluffed the Bluff Master.

"Bluffing?" His brows knitted. "Why?"

"To see if I could get a rise out of you!"

"Let me assure you…mission accomplished."

Pleased with the results back then and the new information he just provided, she giggled, "Yeah…I just didn't know how much until now."

Optimistically he asked, "So can we?"

"Nope." Seeing his hopes deflate she said, "Okay, okay…maybe."

His hopes soared. "Really?"

"Nope…I was **_bluffing_**!"

Appealing to her competitive nature, he suggested, "How about we play Scrabble and the winner gets to decide?"

"Get the box!" She ordered, determined to win this time. And while he was fetching the game, she wondered…what I will demand _when _I win?

**Greg's Apartment  
****11:22 a.m. **

Rushing through the front door, Greg called out, "Tawny? Are you still home?" He knew she had to be at work by noon.

"Just finished getting ready!" She responded from the bedroom before hustling into the living room. "Kiss me then I have to run."

Happy to indulge her, Greg delayed his news in favor of a smooch.

"I'll be home by seven." She snuck another kiss. "I'll bring home dinner from the restaurant."

"Wait." He grabbed her hand as she dashed for the door. "I have good news."

"What?" Intrigued by his cheery look, she waited with baited breath.

"I'm switching to Days!" He reported. "I didn't talk to Grissom yet though so don't say anything, okay?"

"That's fantastic news!" Tossing her arms around his neck, she jumped. "So I can study in the morning after you leave for work, then I'll go to work and we'll both be home by seven unless you're pulling a double."

"Yep." Her jubilant expression made it all worthwhile. "Okay, you better get going. Sorry, one more thing…Nick and Carrie invited us for brunch on Sunday. Eleven-thirty."

"Really?" Pleasantly surprised, she said, "Carrie wants to be my friend?"

"According to Nick she already is." Taking her hand he led her to the door. "We'll talk more tonight." Framing her face with his hands, he stole one more kiss. "Have a good shift."

"I love…" She caught herself and finished her thought differently "….this idea of us working the same shifts!"

Captivated by her appreciative smile, he stumbled over his words. "I love…it too."

**Southwest Airlines  
****Flight 140  
****Midnight**

Twenty minutes into the seventy minute flight, Gil and Sara had their noses buried in books as they reclined in the seats in the second to last row of the plane.

Although she was reading a depressing part of the dramatic novel, Sara couldn't wipe the smile off her face. Still elated from her Scrabble victory, a fantastic win by a 93 point margin, she knew that Gil was sitting next to her thinking about 'what might have been' if he had won. And she loved every minute of it.

Earlier in the day when they were setting up for their rematch, he was so certain of success that he didn't even make Sara specify her reward before the start of the game. His exact words were, _you can have anything you want if you win, but we both know that's not going to happen_. To which she replied, _fine…when I win, I'm going to make you suffer by holding a non-specified reward over your head…a reward that I can demand anytime, anyplace, anywhere_.

"How's your book?" Sara casually inquired of her mate.

Without looking up, he droned, "Rather banal, but I'm stuck on a plane so I'll keep reading it."

"I'm going to hit the restroom," She announced while clicking open her seatbelt.

"Okay." Again, Gil didn't take his eyes off his page.

Leaning in, Sara seductively whispered in her husband's ear, "Maybe…in about thirty seconds…you should go to the restroom too."

Snapping his neck to meet her gaze, Gil stared for a moment and then cautiously asked, "Are you bluffing?"

With a devilish glint in her eyes, she replied, "Maybe I am…maybe I'm not." Standing, she taunted, "I guess you'll find out in thirty seconds."

Tossing his book on his wife's open seat, Gil watched the second hand on his watch tick ever so slowly.

* * *


	17. Management Issues

"**Management Issues"**

**August 13, 2005 (Day 113)  
****The Grissoms'  
****7:24 a.m. **

As Gil hurried from the bedroom to the front door, Sara took off in hot pursuit. "Honey, you can't leave for Anger Management class until we deal with this."

"Deal with what?" He innocently asked while dreading the topic. "Greg will be here to pick me up any minute and..."

"He can wait." Slipping her hand into his she guided him down the hall towards the living room. "You may have managed to avoid it last night, but I know you snuck out there when I was in the shower. You had a bottle of water in your hand and I smelled banana on your breath." Forcefully, she tugged him along. "Come on, it's time for a little systematic desensitization therapy. You're spending five minutes in here with me and we'll work our way up from there if we have to."

With trepidation he let her lead him into the center of the living room. "Look…I know it's irrational but…" He averted his eyes. "…it's still so fresh in my mind. It was a lot easier being with you in Tahoe than being back here at the scene of the crime." Glancing around, the images of Sara frightened and pleading for him to stop yelling surrounded him. "I feel like I tainted this whole part of the house with ugly memories. Standing here with you…I feel horrible all over again."

"We've lived here almost seven months," She told him while placing her arms around his neck. "Thirty minutes of ugliness can't negate all the great times. You're remorseful and you're proving it by taking action. _I've forgiven you_. We've discussed it in depth. We've come to terms with it." She watched as he slowly returned his gaze to hers. "We need to move forward, not linger in the past. Okay?" Smoothing her hand across his cheek, she said, "Now kiss me and we'll have a new happy memory to associate with this room."

Unable to fulfill her request, he sorrowfully he confessed, "I can still see the glass breaking and hear your scream."

In a compassionate voice, she assured him, "I hear the words in your letters to me and I see my husband…a man who loves me with all his heart." With encouragement flowing from her eyes, she moved closer, urging him once more, "Kiss me." She grazed her lips over his. "I'm right here."

Closing his eyes, he eased into a tender kiss, which they lingered over until Sara pulled away and viciously sneezed. "Sorry!" She declared while dashing to the kitchen to grab a napkin.

Laughing, Gil watched her running with her hands covering her phlegmy face. "Was that part of your systematic desensitization plan too?"

After cleaning herself up from the mega-sneeze, she answered, "No, but seeing you laugh in the living room made it worth the embarrassment." Grabbing a second napkin, she continued to blow. "I sneezed like this in the shower too. I thought I cleared out my head but apparently not. I hope I didn't catch something in Tahoe."

"I do recall you touching a door handle at the realtor's office and forgetting to use hand sanitizer afterwards."

"Why didn't you tell me!" She yelped.

Staring at his germphobic wife, he sighed, "Honey…that was a joke."

A playful knock on the front door ended their banter.

"It's Greg," Gil announced while heading down the hall to grab the door. On his way he heard Sara sneeze again. "Gesundheit!" He yelled back as he pulled open the door.

"Is someone sick?" Doris the always curious neighbor insisted on knowing. "Is it your wife?"

"Hey, Gris!" Greg greeted from behind the neighbor who had eclipsed him like a NASCAR racer on the way up to the door.

"Oh hello, Doris," Gil politely greeted while noting she had an armful of newspapers. "And Greg."

Turning, Doris unloaded the papers in Greg's arms. "I saw this boy coming to your door so I figured you were up. Why didn't you ask me to pick up your papers? You work for the police department. You should know it's not wise to let your papers and mail pile up."

Greg found the lecture highly amusing and joined in. "He didn't tell _me_ he was going away either and he's my boss! Guess where they were?"

Always up for a secret, Doris played along. "Where?"

"Belated honeymoon in Tahoe." Greg grinned with delight. "Boss, I hope it doesn't make you _angry _that I spilled the beans." Reaching out, he dumped the papers into Grissom's arms.

Grissom rolled his eyes. "I wondered how long it would take for you to crack the first anger joke. Thanks for overachieving and nailing it before I make it to the car." He explained to a very concerned Doris, "Greg and I are required to attend an Anger Management course as part of training. He's here to pick me up."

"Oh," She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, there," Sara greeted with a couple of napkins in her hand just in case.

"Bubala!" Doris shoved Grissom out of the way. "Look at you…you're coming down with something."

"I am?" Sara looked to her husband for confirmation.

Greg and Grissom glanced over and simultaneously said, "You look fine."

"Men…what they know could fit in a thimble." She brought her hand to Sara's forehead. "I'm a grandmother eight times over…I know these things. You're getting a fever."

"I am?" Sara panicked. "I never get sick."

Doctor Doris wasted no time making her diagnosis. "It's the flu."

"I can't get the flu!" Sara shrieked. "I already missed a week of work!"

"More importantly," Doris reminded her, "Your husband won't be in the mood to shtup if your sinuses are draining all over him and you're hacking up a lung! Then how will you make a baby?"

"Whoa! Whoa!" Greg cried out while pointing to himself. "Not in front of the boy. I don't need that kind of visual this early in the morning. My best friend's grandmother spoke Yiddish. I'm no shlemil, I know what shtup means."

Doris pointed to Greg's hair. "Then you'll know what I mean when I say your hair makes you look meshuga!"

A lover of trivia, Sara guessed, "I'm thinking it means he looks like a lost member of Duran Duran transported to my door from the 80's in a time machine or…crazy."

Greg informed her, "Crazy is the proper translation and for your information, Duran Duran still tour."

Grissom stuffed the newspapers in his wife's arms. "We're going to be late." He kissed her cheek. "I hear the Anger Management instructor gets really pissed off when people are tardy. Bye, Honey."

"Bye, Honey!" Greg mocked before blowing her a kiss and following Grissom to the car. "Hey, Gris, I just blew your wife a kiss. Does that make you…_angry_?"

Convinced Sara was getting sicker by the minute, Doris said, "What you need is a big bowl of matzo ball soup. I'm getting my nails and toes done at nine, but as soon as I get home, I'll whip you up a batch. You can't be out of commission during prime fertility time."

Creeped out by the virtual stranger's knowledge of her ovaries, Sara stammered, "How…um…how do you know I'm…"

"Remember? I'm a grandmother eight times over…I know everything." She smiled as she squeezed Sara's cheek. "One more day and you'll be ripe."

**Catherine's House  
****7:45 a.m. **

In the doorway, Warrick gave Catherine one last squeeze. "You be sure to tell Lindsay why I couldn't come to pick her up from camp with you. I feel bad because I promised her I'd be there to hear all about it on the way home."

"She'll be disappointed to see only me," Catherine sighed. "But she'll be happy about your promotion."

Warrick walked her to the car. "This is good though…it will give the two of you a chance for some girl talk. You can't do that when I'm around."

Opening her door, Catherine asked, "It's a four hour drive home…think we'll manage to avoid an argument?"

Knowing the odds were slim at best, he feigned optimism as he held the door for her to climb in her silver Audi TT Roadster. "Just keep cool if boys come up in the discussion. Don't jump to conclusions and don't act like you don't trust her. She's a good kid."

"I know she is." Catherine nodded. "She's not me."

"Letting her go to sleepaway camp was a good move." He leaned in for a quick kiss. "Definitely earned you some trust points."

After taking a deep breath she managed a confident smile. "Call me after your big meeting. I want to know how Nick takes the news and if Grissom is on Cloud Nine being officially declared Master Criminalist. Between the successful honeymoon and his new job title, he should be flying high."

**Excalibur Hotel and Casino  
****Normandy Meeting Room  
****7:50 a.m. **

Walking through the medieval themed casino on their way to the meeting rooms, Grissom remarked, "Gotta love Vegas. Only here would an Anger Management class meet in a place touting one of the most violent periods in history."

"I like the irony," Greg countered. "It's serves as a reminder that people have come a long way in settling their differences." Pointing at a poster of Knights jousting, he explained, "We use to hop on horses and joust, now we hire lawyers and sue."

"Not really a huge leap in civility." Grissom chuckled, "Let's not mention what I just said to Nick since Carrie is a lawyer."

"Carrie invited Tawny and I over for brunch on Sunday."

"I bet that will make Tawny happy," Grissom replied. "It further legitimizes her as your significant other.

Bringing her into the lab to meet everyone was a nice move too. She needs to feel secure."

"Yeah, well…I uh…kind of blew it in the security department on Thursday." Standing outside the meeting room, Greg confessed, "Out of left field I brought up paternity testing and she flipped. She actually said she didn't need me in her life, that she would get her old job back and not let me see the baby. She stormed out and everything. I chased her from club to club until I found her and convinced her to come back."

Stunned by the sudden overshare, Grissom searched for the right thing to say. "Are you concerned about her strong reaction to paternity testing? Do you think it means…"

"No, that wasn't the reason she freaked." Sighing, he explained, "She thought I wanted the test because I didn't believe her that the she wasn't having unprotected sex with other guys. It flashed her back to her mom not believing her molestation accusations."

"Ah." Grissom nodded. "Makes sense when you factor that into the equation." A little confused, he asked, "Still…she has to be confused if you say you believe her but still want the test."

"No, once I had a chance to explain, she understood." Waiting until a group of three walked by, Greg admitted, "There was another guy about a week before me, a businessman from New York, showed her a really nice night on the town and they ended up back in his room." He saw concern sweep over Grissom's face. "It wasn't unprotected and I believe that, not only because I believe her…" Again he had to pause to let several meeting goers enter the room.

"Why don't we step over to that corner," Grissom suggested.

Once they arrived in the secluded spot, Greg finished the story. "When the guy was getting dressed, his wedding ring slipped out of his pants pocket. He lied about being married. When Tawny busted him he told her he had a great wife and three kids back home, but he'd love to see her every month when he comes to town. A guy like that isn't looking for the complications of a paternity lawsuit."

"I'd agree." Grissom ran his hand over his beard while thinking. "So you just want to ensure there wasn't an accident. The odds are incredibly low, but if I were in your position I'd do the same thing."

Greg checked his watch and saw that they still had time. "We're testing for paternity in four weeks. If, against all odds, it's the other guy's baby, I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm getting more attached to her every day. Hell, I almost slipped the L word twice. I'm taking her out to meet my folks before the test." The issue weighing heavy on his mind, he confessed, "It's obvious the other guy isn't going to want anything to do with her and the kid…but the thought of another guy's baby…I don't know if I can manage that."

Not expecting a heavy discussion after Greg started the day in such a playful mood, Grissom was once again scrambling. "Well…um…biological ties are strong, but there are plenty of men who aren't related to the children they are helping raise, who would argue that their paternal instincts are just as developed and the bond as strong. Look at Warrick for example, Lindsay went so far as to declare him her stepfather on TV when it's not even true. He's clearly a father to her in her mind. Parents who adopt children I'm sure would tell you the same. Conversely, many biologically related parents walk away from their children and never look back."

"Yeah…I hear what you're saying." Greg breathed deep. "It's a lot to think about in a really short period of time." With conviction he said, "I do know that if the test isn't in my favor I'm not going to throw her out on the street. I won't abandon her like her mother did. No, I'll see her through this and see what happens. I don't know if I can assume someone else's role as the father, but I think it's one of those things that I can't possibly decide until the baby arrives and I see how I feel."

Placing a hand on Greg's weighted shoulder, he said, "I think you're doing the very best you can under some pretty tough circumstances. I'm proud of you."

"Really?" He asked with skepticism in his voice.

"Absolutely." Grissom lightened the mood with a smile. "I think you're doing a frabjous job."

Greg recognized the word from one of his mother's favorite books and recited, "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"

"Now I'm even prouder!" Grissom announced. "Do me a favor and make sure you drop that word in front of Sara."

"My mom loved reading Through the Looking Glass to me. She has an original copy from 1872." Smiling again, Greg told him, "It's been handed down and she always said when I have a child one day she'll give it to me."

"My mom had a pretty old copy too," Grissom replied without guarding the information. "It had an inscription to her from her grandmother. I didn't think to keep it to pass down…mostly because I didn't ever think I'd have a child. I uh…donated all her books to the local library when she passed on."

"Whoa…" Greg stared at his mentor. "That honeymoon really did something to you. You just shared something personal with me. I wasn't even sure you had parents. Most people think you were hatched on an alien planet and landed here. Who are you and what have you done with Grissom?"

"I'm evolving…like a caterpillar into a butterfly." He laughed heartily. "Who does that quote belong to?"

Proudly, he replied, "That would be Greg Sanders."

"I guess I absorbed it." Now that the levity was returning, he teased, "So was the passion-fueled make up lovin' everything you hoped it would be?"

"Well…don't get me wrong, the lovin' was great, but the trauma preceding it was _way_ worse than I thought it would be and if I had to do it over again, I'd skip both to keep the peace." Deciding to drop the ruse, Greg inquired, "Did you feel the same way after making up with Sara in Tahoe? I uh…know the honeymoon started out as a fight."

"See...I shouldn't have asked you the question because that made you feel like you could ask me the same question and now I feel obligated to answer it." It was the exact scenario he had discussed with Dr. Myers.

"Why did you ask me the question?" Greg prodded.

"Because I was curious if you felt the same way I did."

"Well, that's why I'm asking you!" He broke into an easy laugh. "This is called sharing. Chicks do it all the time. It doesn't come as naturally for us guys, but that doesn't make us any less curious. It's rude to expect to get information but never give any in return." Settling down, he said, "Hey, this is probably a good time to mention this. I uh…I need to switch to Days to be in sync with Tawny's work schedule so I'm puttin' in a bid. It's not _you_ I want to leave, it's the hours. I'm really going to miss working with you, but it's the best thing for my…for lack of a better word, family." Hoping he wasn't upset, he joked, "Are you _angry_ that I want to leave your team?"

"Not at all." Grinning, he replied, "This afternoon we're announcing that I'm leaving the position of supervisor for a new job as Master Criminalist. I'll be working day hours too. Warrick will be the new graveyard supervisor as of August 22nd."

"Now I'm _really _glad I'm switching. No offense to Warrick, but…I don't want to be anywhere near Catherine when he starts ordering her around."

**Crime Lab  
****Nick Stokes' Office**

**9:21 a.m. **

Sara walked into the office holding a box of Kleenex. "Hey, Nick. I'm back."

"What the hell happened?" He urgently asked, while jumping up from behind his desk. "Warrick said you guys were having a great time when he spoke to you in Tahoe, but you look like hell, your eyes are red and you're carrying a box of tissues."

"Oh!" Sara realized the evidence looked suspicious. "I'm coming down with something. My omnipotent nosy neighbor says it's the flu."

Folding his arms across his chest, he stood in front of her. "Then why did you come in?"

Lowering her eyes to the floor, she explained, "I feel really bad about bolting town and leaving you short-staffed. I knew Trey was gone for most of the week and…"

"Stop, okay." He flashed his trademark smile. "Once in almost six years you do something irresponsible on the job, I'm not going to hold it against you." Nudging her he teased, "But you never would have taken off unexpectedly without telling the boss you were leaving when you worked for Grissom."

"What would have been the point?" She laughingly replied. "He was the reason I was here."

"For one, he might have thought to chase ya'." Nick laughed with her. "See how effective it was this time?"

"Yeah," She nodded. "But I don't plan on ever disappearing again, so it's a moot point."

**Excalibur Hotel and Casino  
****Normandy Meeting Room  
****9:55 a.m. **

Seated in the back of the room, Greg and Grissom listened intently to the presenter, Monica Reynolds, a serene looking forty-something woman wearing an unassuming grey pantsuit and her waist-length brown hair in a simple ponytail.

"People use a variety of both conscious and unconscious processes to deal with their angry feelings. The three main approaches are expressing, suppressing and calming. Expressing your angry feelings in an assertive, non-aggressive manner is the healthiest way. Unexpressed anger is what gets people into trouble…it can lead to physiological and psychological problems as well as passive-aggressive and outwardly aggressive behavior. When we return from our ten minute break, we'll explore ways to effectively express anger. I'll see you back here at 10:10. Thank you."

Irving, the three-hundred pound man covered in leather, piercings and tattoos, sitting to the left of Greg jumped up from his chair and snapped, "How about moving your chair and your big hair so I can get by?"

Greg politely turned to the gentleman and replied, "That sounds a little _angry_. Irving, don't you think there's a more effective way to express your request?"

The man responded by grunting and sliding Greg's chair, with Greg still in it, tightly against the table and stomping past.

His solar plexuses stunned, Greg gasped, "I guess Irving hasn't absorbed the lesson yet."

Grissom shook his head, "I bet that kind of behavior got you stuffed in a few lockers back in the day. You do realize some of the attendees are here under court order, right?"

"Duly noted," Greg replied as he slid his chair away from the table and enjoyed unconstricted breathing. "But I wasn't scared because I knew you'd have my back."

"Yeah…I could have taken him." Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his cell phone. "I'm stepping into the hall to call Sara. Try to stay alive."

**Crime Lab  
****Layout Room  
****10:02 a.m. **

"Hi, Honey," Sara answered in a nasally rasp.

"Wow…you really are getting sick," Gil replied with shock in his voice.

"Yep, Doris was right." Turning off her ALS she took a break from processing. "You know what else she predicted?" Chuckling, she told him, "She said tomorrow I would be _ripe_ for shtuping and fertilizing."

"Who needs science when we've got Doris? I could have saved a hundred bucks on the monitor. Do you think she wants to consult for the lab? I have a few cold cases we could throw her way."

"I'll ask her later when I pick up my matzo ball soup." Taking a seat on a stool, she inquired, "How's class?"

"A few minutes ago, Greg incited a guy who could snap him like a twig, but other than that it's been uneventful and educational."

"Good." She smiled. "Thanks for going."

"Least I could do."

"Hold…" Moving the phone away she rushed to sneeze in the corner of the room away from the displayed evidence.

"That sounded productive."

Reaching into her lab coat she grabbed some tissues. "Damn…I almost got my DNA on the evidence." Tossing her wad of mucous-filled tissue into the trash, she moaned, "Tomorrow's going to be our big fertility day and I'm going to look and sound so awful, you're not going to want to come near me."

"Honey, fear not…you could never be unattractive to me and I've _never_ had a problem _rising_ to a challenge."

"Okay then…" She giggled, "I won't worry about being un-shtupable."

"Break's over and I need to make sure Greg doesn't lecture any more ex-cons. Love you."

"Love you too." Slipping the phone into her pocket, she blissfully sighed and then choked mercilessly on her sinus drainage.

**Excalibur Hotel and Casino  
****Normandy Meeting Room  
****11:58 a.m. **

As the first of the six Saturday sessions was wrapping up, the facilitator gave a preview of the next lesson's material.

"Next week we'll explore and model strategies for keeping anger at bay, such as deep breathing, visual imagery and yoga-based exercises. If anyone is interested in exploring yoga in depth, I have cards for my yoga studio on the table by the door. Attendees of this seminar are entitled to one free introductory class. Thank you and I look forward to seeing all of you next week."

Greg wasted no time scooting in his chair to let Irving the Intolerant march out of the room. "Bye, Irving, see you next week!" He pleasantly called out to the man who ignored him completely.

Grissom gaped at his insane co-worker. "You really have a death wish, don't you?"

"I was reaching out and being supportive like Monica suggested." Greg stood up and waited for Grissom to do the same. "You planning on giving Yoga a try?"

"I will if Irving does," He quipped while heading for the door.

Hyped up on coffee, Greg announced, "You know what I think would be relaxing after being cooped up in here for four hours? Some Texas Hold 'Em. What do you say? The cards are calling me! But I'll understand if you're scared, because I'm quite the shark."

"You want to play poker with me?" Grissom confirmed in an amused tone. "Eh…I don't know. I'm not..."

"We drove together, so I can't stay if you don't." He checked his watch. "Come on, don't be a wuss. You don't have to be at work for your meeting for two hours. We'll play a few hands, I'll clean up and then we can go."

His competitive juices flowing and still smarting from his Scrabble loss, Grissom's lips curved into a delightful smirk. "Okay, you twisted my arm. I'll give poker a shot."

"Luckily you can afford to lose."

As they left the room and walked toward the casino floor, Grissom sarcastically questioned the arrogant boy, "Remind me again…which is better a full house or a flush?"

"Oh grasshopper…"Greg snickered, "This is going to be fun."

"Indeed," Grissom responded, fully prepared to take Greg's money since he was full of himself and not catching a clue.

**Embry-Riddle University  
****Flagstaff, Arizona  
****Champions Softball Camp  
****12:32 p.m. **

Anxious to see Lindsay, Catherine followed the check-out signs leading to the dormitories.

"Mom!" Lindsay yelled from a second floor window. "In here."

Lifting her sunglasses, Catherine was happy to see her daughter looking healthy and happy. "Be right there!" Fear number one behind her, she proceeded inside hoping to find no signs of bad judgment or inappropriate activity. Warrick's words echoed in her head… _Don't jump to conclusions and don't act like you don't trust her. She's a good kid._

Once inside the dorm, Catherine weaved through the crowd of parents and kids and headed for the stairs. A few seconds later she was pleased to see Lindsay rushing to meet her. "Hi, Sweetie!"

"Where's Warrick?" Lindsay excitedly inquired. "I can't wait to tell him about the Most Improved award I got last night!"

"I missed you too." She wrapped her arms around her bubbly daughter and kissed the top of her head. "Warrick couldn't come because something big is going on at the lab. He was really bummed and wanted you to know that he can't wait to hear all about camp."

"What's so important that he couldn't make it?" She asked in a dejected tone. "He promised!"

"It's really good news actually." Catherine put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Grissom is taking another position and Warrick has been promoted to Graveyard Supervisor. The Assistant Director called an emergency management meeting to discuss everything and Warrick had to attend."

Shocked, Lindsay froze in the hallway. "Warrick's going to be _your_ boss at work?"

"Aren't you excited for him?"

"For him, yes. But, Mom…" A full panic was brewing. "…you're never going to be able to let him tell you what to do at work. You're too controlling!"

"I'll be fine," Catherine casually replied.

"No! You're going to blow up and he's going to break it off with you and leave."

Catherine managed to remain calm even as her daughter spouted. "I promise…that's not going to happen. We discussed it at length. This will be good for me. It will help me chill out."

"If you mess things up I'll be so…" Upon seeing Jake Tobias, a fourteen year-old boy attending the baseball camp across campus, Lindsay stopped her tirade and smiled at the boy. "Hi."

Catherine stood by watching the exchange.

"Hi, Lindsay," Jake awkwardly rocked on his heels. "My parents are here to pick me up and I uh…I just wanted to make sure I said…um…bye." Nervously he looked at the woman staring him down. "Is this your mom?"

"Yes, I'm the mom," Catherine huffed. "Who are you?" Warrick's voice shouted in her mind… _just keep cool if boys come up in the discussion._

Frightened by the overbearing woman, Jake stammered, "I'm Jake…I play baseball and…"

"This is a softball camp," Catherine snipped. "I think you have the wrong equipment for the game."

Lindsay butted in. "Baseball camp is going on at the same time."

Miffed, Catherine stuffed her hands on her hips. "They didn't mention that in the brochure!"

"Mom!" Lindsay attempted to manage her mother. "Jake's dad is a church pastor." Grabbing the boy's hand, she pointed out, "He's wearing a 'What Would Jesus Do' chastity ring."

"Nice cover," Catherine groaned in the tone of a jaded CSI ex-stripper who has heard everything and believes nothing people claim. If only Warrick were here to give him _The Look_.

"Mother!" Lindsay was appalled.

"I'm sorry! Sorry!" She backpedaled. "It's the job…I'm too jaded."

Jake found his voice. "Lindsay said you are a Crime Scene Investigator. That's such an admirable career. She couldn't stop talking about you and her stepfather and how the two of you work so hard to clean up the streets. That's really cool."

Catherine found herself at a loss for words. "Thanks."

"I uh…need to get going," Jake announced. "Bye, Lindsay." Bashfully, he looked away.

"Bye, Jake." With puppy dog eyes she watched him walk down the hall and when he turned back, she waved like the giddy teen she was supposed to be.

"Nice boy," Catherine managed to squeak out.

"Yeah," She dreamily replied.

"Too bad you won't see him again."

"Why do you say that?"

Catherine shrugged, "Summer camp thing. Even if you're both here a year from now…"

"He lives in Vegas," She happily informed her. "As a CSI, you should know better than to assume before knowing all the facts."

Turning her eyes to the heavens, she moaned, "Oh god."

"Jake says you really shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain."

Catherine shook her head. "This is going to be interesting."

**Excalibur Hotel and Casino  
****Food Court  
****12:48 p.m. **

While Greg sat a table wondering how he managed to lose $500 to his boss in a record breaking amount of time, Grissom returned with a tray of food from McDonald's.

Grinning uncontrollably, Grissom set down the tray and continued the verbal assault he had begun the second they left the casino floor. "A salad and a Diet Coke for me…" He placed his food on his side of the table. "…and a Happy Meal with a milk for the little boy who tried to play cards. I'm told there's a prize inside the bag, so at least you'll walk out of here with something."

"Great." Greg gladly accepted the free food and worked to open his tiny carton of reduced-fat milk.

Sitting down, Grissom slipped his straw out of its paper wrapper. "Are you _angry _that you lost your money?"

"Uh…yeah."

"First rule of gambling, Greg." Grissom popped open the lid on his salad. "Never play if you can't afford to lose."

"Thanks for lesson, _Dad_." He peeked in the bag and retrieved the small bag of fries.

"You're welcome," He replied while swirling non-fat dressing over his salad. "Here's another…I'm taking my winnings, also known as, 'your money that you couldn't afford to lose' and opening a savings account for your child. Fiscal responsibility is something else you'll need to acquire going forward."

"I know…I know," He groaned as he opened up the plastic wrapper holding a toy car.

"Nice wheels."

"Thanks."

Enjoying every moment of the paternal role, Grissom broke some more good news. "You know you're going to have to trade in your brand new sports car you spent your savings on for a baby-worthy vehicle."

Overloaded, he slouched in his chair. "Are you planning on buying me ice cream after this ass-kicking?"

"A double scoop."

**Crime Lab  
****Jim Brass's Office  
****1:46 p.m. **

Her head heavy with congestion, Sara leaned against Brass's open door and knocked.

"Hey!" He jubilantly sang. "It's Bat Girl! Was it as unromantic as Batman made it sound?" It was great to know she was back and happy.

"It was frabjous actually!" Even though she felt horrible, she smiled brightly and approached his desk. "But I'm here to thank you for your support in the darker hours."

Taking her hand out from behind her back she presented a gift box. "This is a little token of my appreciation."

Moved by the gesture, he accepted the long, slender box. "This wasn't necessary."

"Just open it," She goaded before releasing a nasty series of coughs.

"You start smoking two packs a day in Tahoe?" After sliding off the ribbon, he opened the black box and saw an engraved pen with the words, _The Brass Man_.

Smiling she said, "That's your official superhero name in my book. I'm happy for _The Brass Man_ in my life. Thanks for looking out for me."

The depth of her words and the gift left him stunned. "You're killin' me with this and you're gonna blow my reputation as a hard ass if we keep..."

"Then let's not talk about it anymore," She suggested through a bright smile. "Let's pick up where you started…harassing me about my geeky honeymoon activities."

Stowing the pen safely inside his jacket's interior pocket, he smiled, "I don't care if you played chess until three in the morning every night, I'm glad everything worked out."

"Scrabble actually and…I'm glad it worked out too." Reaching into her lab coat she retrieved more tissues.

"You gettin' sick?"

"Yeah." She blew her nose hard and long and then tossed the last of her tissues in his trash can.

"That's what you get for skinny dipping in the lake."

"He told you about that!" She was livid. "I don't believe it!"

"Ha!" Brass broke out laughing. "No, I was cracking a joke, but now I know it's true. Was that _while_ you watched bats chomp bugs? Were you multi-tasking?"

Flushing with fever and embarrassment, Sara hid her face in her hands.

"Look who's here!" Brass shouted as Grissom entered the office carrying a plastic bag. "Perfect timing! It's Batman the bug-lovin', skinny dippin' Scrabble champion who finally had the common sense to escort his woman home from Tahoe."

Gil stared at his sickly wife. "You told _him _we had sex in the lake?"

"Doh!" Brass couldn't believe his luck. "Uh…she accidentally slipped about skinny dippin,' but didn't mention it was a _contact _sport." Raising a brow, he stared at Sara. "How did you get past the germ thing?"

In place of an answer, she violently sneezed into her bare hands. "Excuse me," She moaned without moving her hands. "Ladies Room."

Grissom cringed as he followed her out the door. "You need go home and get some rest."

Her hands still covering _the spill_, she whined, "Can we talk about this after I wash my face?"

"Sure." He smiled slightly as she hurried toward the Ladies Room. When she was gone, he re-entered the office and handed Jim the white plastic bag. "A souvenir for you."

"What is with you two? You're on your honeymoon and you can't stop thinking about me?" He guffawed. "Hey…who can blame you?" Reaching in, he found a t-shirt and when he unraveled it he read the inscription out loud. "My loser friend went to Tahoe and all he got me was this stupid t-shirt."

"Think it fits?"

"Definitely!" Brass retorted. "And it may even be the right size."

**Interstate 40  
****3: 54 p.m. **

Much to their mutual surprise, Catherine and Lindsay managed to drive for hours and not exchange an unkind or suspicious word. Of course it helped that half the time Lindsay had her ear buds planted firmly in her ears while Catherine listened to the car radio.

The ring of Catherine's cell phone was a welcome sound and she quickly retrieved it from her purse, positioned next to her. "How's it goin', Boss?"

"It's official," Warrick replied, "Nick was really cool about it, said he was happy we'd be peers again. JoAnn was psyched because she has supervisor seniority now that Gris has moved on. But her Swing shift team isn't as experienced as my Grave shift so we'll see who is tops in the long run. Brass sent an e-mail notifying everyone of the changes."

Grinning, she said, "I can't wait to hear what the gossip mill has to say about me working for you."

"It's already starting," He assured her. "In other scandalous news, Greg is moving to Days and both Trey and Nina are moving to Grave with us."

"We're losing Greggy!" She took the news hard. "Who is going to kiss the ground I walk on?"

"Don't worry, Baby, I'll squeeze it in at home from time to time."

"Well okay then." She glanced over at Lindsay and realized she was asleep. "And how is Master Grissom?"

"As predicted, he's pumped." Shifting gears, he asked, "More importantly, how is Linds? Did she have a great time? Did she understand why I couldn't be there?"

"She had a fabulous time. She won the Most Improved Player award for working the hardest all week." Proudly, she said, "I wish you could have seen how psyched she was to tell me…well actually, she wanted to tell you but I played the part of the stand-in very nicely."

"That's great."

"Yeah…" Sighing, she added, "…then I met the boy she hung out with all week."

"Oh shit."

"Relax…I didn't say or do anything too bad. You would have been proud of me." After verifying once again that her daughter was asleep, Catherine said, "Get this…the boy is the son of pastor in Vegas ...not a corny chapel minister but a real one in charge of a big church. Oh and the boy wears a 'What Would Jesus Do' chastity ring."

"You're kidding."

"Uh…no." Laughing, she said, "Can you imagine if daddy finds out his son is dating the daughter of an ex-dancer/addict who is divorced and living in sin with a recovering gambler?"

"Hey…from what I recall my grandma sayin'…Jesus hung with sinners like us, so there you go."

"She wants to join the church youth group," She informed him in an exasperated tone. "Is this some kind of karma thing? I was worried she would turn out loose like me and now she's going evangelical?"

"Relax…she's just wants to join to impress the boy."

"Oh that relaxes me." She groaned. "But hey…he's the son of minister, right? He can't be too bad."

"You'd think…just don't ask me about the girl I dated who was the daughter of a Baptist preacher." Laughing at the memory, he expounded, "She had me hearing angels sing by the time she was done with my body!"

"Oh god."

**Crime Lab  
****Grissoms' Office  
****4:10 p.m. **

Practically crawling to her husband's office, Sara entered and begged, "Take me home. I'm too weak to drive. It's flu. Doris was right. I had Doc take my temperature…103."

"You should have been home hours ago," He chided while grabbing his keys. "We'll have to stop at Walgreens and get you something to take because we don't have anything at the house."

"No, I have Robitussin at home, remember? I bought it as a fertility enhancer." As soon as she could, she latched onto him. "Think it will be too risqué if I hold onto you as we walk out of the building?"

"Not as scandalous as me standing next to you while you hit the floor." Slipping his arm around her waist, he teased, "And you had to insist that I kiss you this morning."

"Sorry. I really hope you don't catch this." She held on for dear life. "I can't believe how fast this hit me."

"Flu is like that…hits you out of the blue. That's why epidemics used to get so out of control, there wasn't enough warning to avoid infected people." He glanced over at her. "You really look awful. Since I've known you, I've never seen you look this bad…not even when you were in that GHB induced near coma."

"Thanks, Honey…for the compliment and the terrible memory." Still maintaining her sense of humor she whispered, "But I'm still shtupable, right?"

"Sure," He answered with less confidence than he had earlier. "After all, it's for a good cause so how could I not cooperate?"

"Anyway, we don't have to worry until morning." After choking on a wad of phlegm, she remarked, "I'm sure I'll be much better by then."

* * *


	18. How Much Longer?

"**How Much Longer?"**

**August 14, 2005 (Day 114)  
****Crime Lab  
****Grissoms' Office  
****6:58 a.m. **

Grissom tossed Greg's personnel file on his desk and took a seat while Greg chomped on his thumbnail and awaited the bad news.

"Gris, thanks for handling all this so I don't have to start off on a negative with Nick."

"I hate doing it, but…" Grissom leveled a heavy sigh. "I can't avoid it because Hodges was involved too." Opening the file, he checked the date on Greg's CSI paperwork.

"How long will my file be flagged?"

"Six months."

"That long?"

"Sorry." Grissom began filling out the form. "Your review for CSI II will fall within the flagged period so, your promotion, assuming you've met all requirements and not had any further personnel issues, will be delayed by at least three months. No salary increase during the time period either."

"So, if all goes well I'll have it before the baby arrives."

"What is Tawny's due date?" Grissom inquired out of curiosity.

"Based on conceiving July 21st with me…" He held up two sets of crossed fingers. "…her due date will be April 12th. Seems like an eternity."

"And you're not the one carrying the baby around." Grissom's thoughts turned to an image of Sara heavy with child. "So um…what else did the doctor say?"

"Our first appointment isn't until her 8th week. Her doctor just prescribed pre-natal vitamins and gave her a bunch of stuff to read. We got the due date from a website where you plunk in the date you think you conceived and it tells you the estimated due date."

"Really?" Opening his laptop, he asked, "Do you remember the website address?"

"Pregnancy dot com, then click on pregnancy, then due date calculator." He taunted, "Is this personal research or business?"

"I'm a curious scientist twenty-four seven, Greg. You can't mention something like this and not expect me to check it out." Grissom pulled up the site and followed Greg's instructions. "Here it is. So let's see…we'll use today's date as an example. _Hypothetically_, if someone were to conceive today her due date would be…May 7th." Instantly he was lost visualizing that day…the rush to the hospital…the birth of his first child…Sara's gleaming eyes and beautiful smile.

"Hey! Where did you go just know? You know, it's not going to happen with you at work." Laughing, Greg pointed to his watch. "Shift's over, how much longer are you going to wait to go home to your wife?"

"Very funny." Grissom closed his laptop. "Actually, I spoke with her an hour ago and she was going to sleep. I told her I'd be home at eleven."

"That's not too much longer," Greg winked.

Unamused, Grissom snipped, "Would you get out of here so I can write you up!"

"This is cool…after today, you're not my boss." Standing up, he remarked, "Now we're just buds, so I can really needle you."

"I'll never be your 'bud', Greg." Grissom feigned a scowl. "That would imply we're equals. I think our poker match proved otherwise."

"That sounded a little…_angry_."

Pointing to the door, he didn't utter another word.

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****8:28 a.m. **

"Would you hurry up already, Nicky! What's taking you so long?" Carrie huffed. "Being late isn't going to make a very good impression on Pastor Tobias. If we expect to get married in his church, we should show some respect."

Racing out of the bedroom, Nick continued buttoning his dress shirt. "Sorry…sorry…sorry." Tossing a kiss on her cheek, he sweetly said, "Did I mention I'm sorry? I'm out of practice at this get up and get dressed for church thing."

"I _really_ want to get married in this church." Straightening his collar, she explained, "It's very pretty and my brother and sister-in-law are members so we have a great chance at getting our preferred date."

Cracking a cowboy grin, he said, "Why are we still standing around jabbering and wasting time? Let's go!"

**Greg and Tawny's Apartment  
****9:59 a.m. **

Already dressed in a pair of jeans and a lime green Ted Baker French cuff button down, Greg sat on the edge of the bed flipping through the latest issue of Forensic Science Monthly while waiting for Tawny to model her next outfit selection.

"What about this?" She asked while smoothing her hands over her fuchsia Capri pants before straightening her white crochet camisole.

Lifting his gaze, he did a once over and confessed, "I love it but I loved the first three outfits too. I think you're way too worried about this brunch. It's just Nick…"

"And Carrie!" Tawny plopped on the bed. "She's a smart, big time lawyer. I don't want to show up looking like a stripper. I'm worried enough that I'm going to say or do something stupid in front of her."

"We're going to her house for a personal visit, not her office to discuss legal briefs…it's casual." Tossing his arm around her shoulder, he gave an encouraging squeeze. "Anyway, I bet you're much better at Algebra than Carrie. Lawyers are verbal creatures…they suck at math. I'll try to work an equation into the conversation so you can show off."

"Thanks," She replied, grateful he cared enough to want to make her feel special. "I know it's much too early for maternity clothes but seriously, I don't know how much longer I'll fit into my shirts!" Cupping her boobs, she whined, "I'm busting out a little more every day."

"Really?" With a sly smile, Greg glanced at her bountiful bosom. "Now that you mention it…"

Playfully shoving him, she rolled her eyes. "As if you didn't notice."

"Busted."

"Seriously…I'm afraid if they keep growing at this rate, by April I won't be able to stand up straight. Some girls end up with terrible back problems later in life." Concerned, she sighed, "And what happens when my milk comes in? My whole head might disappear behind the girls!"

"Don't worry, I'll navigate my way through them to kiss you."

"I hope I can breastfeed," She announced while staring down at her enhanced mammaries. "I read on the Internet that some women aren't able to after implants because of nerve damage. I'm really starting to regret augmentation now that I don't need it to boost my career."

"Ha! _Boost_ your career." Greg realized his joke wasn't appreciated. "Oh…sorry…this is like a serious conversation. Subtract five cool points."

Without delay she updated his score. "894."

"See how good you are at math!"

**Desert Springs Church  
****10:15 a.m. **

Sitting in the pew next to Carrie and flanked by her brother's family, Nick stared at the preacher while wondering…how much longer can this guy possibly ramble on? If he talks this much at my wedding I'll be kissing my bride when I'm sixty-five. Good lord, he's verbose. Oh…did I just take the lord's name in vain in a house of god? Shit. Wait…does it count if you don't say it out loud? Damn…I 'm rusty at this church stuff.

Giving her fiancé's hand a squeeze, Carrie whispered, "So what do you think?"

"I like the second choice," He quietly replied.

Knitting her brow, she inquired, "What second choice?"

"Oh…sorry." He winked. "I thought we were still talking about napkins."

**The Grissoms'  
****10:55 a.m. **

After coming home from work, Gil quietly entered the bedroom, expecting to find Sara asleep.

"Hi, Honey," She weakly greeted from her position in the bathroom doorway. "I was on my way back to bed but felt a little weak so I'm just leaning here for a second."

Since he had known her, he had never seen her so ill. "You look much worse."

"Thanks." Having just checked her appearance in the mirror she knew she only looked half as bad as she felt.

Hurrying to her side, he rested the back of his hand on her forehead. "You're burning up."

"103 and holding." She brought a clump of tissues to her nose. "That damn Robitussin isn't doing anything and neither is the Tylenol."

Taking her arm he advised, "What you need is sleep and fluids."

"You've got it half right," She managed to quip. "I don't need _sleep_ right now." Lifting her right hand, she displayed the fertility monitor. "It's time for some baby making love. As Doris predicted, I'm ripe!"

"Yes you are, Sweetie." The outside temperature was 108 degrees and with the air conditioning switched off in this part of the house, he figured that was probably the temperature inside the bedroom as well. Moving Sara's sweat drenched hair off her face, he said, "Did you um…take a shower since I last saw you yesterday evening?" Reaching out, he took the fertility monitor out of her hand and placed it on the dresser. Considering her condition, he couldn't imagine breathing the same air as her, no less cozying up to her to make love.

"I'm sorry…the chills are too bad to think about showering. I even had to turn off the air conditioning in here." Wrapping her arms around her overly clothed body, she whined, "I have two shirts and a sweatshirt on and I'm still cold. There's no way I'm getting out of these layers of clothes."

Trying for some levity and optimism, he joked, "Well okay, but I think we'll be more successful if you lose the pajama bottoms." Then he relented, "Sara…you're not seriously considering going through with this, are you?"

"Yes! We have no choice." Realizing the circumstances were less than ideal, she smiled, "I'll toss the pajama bottoms after I burrow under the blankets to avoid a chill."

"Okay then." Feeling completely unmotivated and knowing she was physically weak, he hoped she'd offer some verbal encouragement to get the ball rolling.

Trudging over to the bed, Sara sighed, "Come on…let's get this over with as fast as possible."

Watching her breathe through her mouth and listening to her wheeze through her nose, he sighed, "When you put it like that I can hardly wait."

"I'm _so_ sorry, Honey. It's not personal." Crawling onto the bed, she groaned and flopped onto her back, pulling the covers up to her neck. "I'm just soooo not in the mood for this right now. All I want to do is sleep. I feel horrible…my sinuses are draining into my throat and coating it with gunk, then it's all going down into my stomach and making me nauseous, and if that wasn't bad enough…"

"I get the picture." Standing at the edge of the bed, he was desperately trying to erase it. "Uh…warm enough?" He sweetly asked while struggling to warm up to the idea of climbing into bed with his wife and her toxic virus.

Weakly, she nodded. "I know this sounds funny but, could you try not to touch me when we're doing this?"

Unbuttoning his shirt, he informed her, "Uh…I think I'm going to have to make some contact or…"

"Besides _that _contact." Breathing hard through her germ-filled mouth, she explained, "I mean don't try to kiss me…"

"I don't think you have to worry about that!" Looking at her fevered lips and bright red nose, he exhaled a desperate sigh, "I think I'll remain a safe, eight to ten inches from your face at all times."

"Thanks." Her palm landed on her aching head. "And try not to move around a lot because my head is throbbing and motion makes it worse."

Kicking off his shoes and socks, he nodded. "I'll do my best, but you do remember how this works, right? A modicum of momentum is required."

Loving his sense of humor, she faintly smiled. "I mean…don't get fancy…don't concern yourself with making it good for me or making it last, because no matter what you do, I'm going to be miserable."

"Honey, I know where you're coming from, but comments like that really aren't _motivational_." Throwing his shirt on the end of the bed, he pleaded with her, "The troops won't march unless they receive the order from my brain and if you keep talking like that…"

"Understood!" Buried under the blankets, Sara tossed out only her pajama bottoms, leaving her two shirts and a bulky sweatshirt in place. "Not much of a striptease, huh? Sorry, Boom Boom is too sick to shimmy."

The dreadful expression on her fever flushed face did nothing to elevate his desire and he opted for a momentary retreat. "Uh…do you need anything before I…"

"Some water would be nice," She softly replied. "I have a bottle on the bathroom counter."

"I'll be right back." Walking into the bathroom, he tried to muster the fortitude to begin the mission. "Anything else while I'm in here?" While there, he dropped his khakis and made a pit stop and thought…_I've never been unattracted to Sara. I can't believe this is happening today of all days._

In a fading voice, she replied, "I could use another cough drop." When she heard the toilet flush, she followed up with, "Make sure you wash your hands before grabbing that lozenge!"

He shook his head while kicking his pants across the floor. "Always do, Honey." Standing in his boxers, washing his hands at the sink, he looked at his reflection and silently remarked…_I can't believe she wants to go through with this!_

"What's taking so long?" Sara griped from the bed. "I can barely keep my eyes open. We really need to hurry up."

Toweling off, Gil noted the utter lack of enthusiasm in his body. "I'll be right there." Convincing himself that once he was in position everything would automatically snap into place, he retrieved Sara's supplies and hustled out of the room.

"Here you go," He cheerily announced while handing her the items and helping her to a seated position.

"Thanks," She droned before taking a few sips and hacking uncontrollably.

Gil finally saw an opportunity to call it a day. "Sara, let's be reasonable…you're too sick to do this."

"No!" She adamantly replied. Then, after another short round of deep lung cleansing, she popped the stinky cough drop in her mouth. "I'm not waiting a whole extra month just because I feel crummy. I can get through this!"

Loving her desperately, he whispered, "I appreciate your positive attitude, but at the moment…uh…I can't."

"Oh." Her gaze darted to his boxers as she figured out his dilemma. "But you have to! Peak fertility only lasts for 12 to 24 hours. The instructions state we have to make love once during the high fertility period, which we did, and once or twice during peak! You need to rise to the challenge!"

"It's not something you can demand and expect…." Frustrated he replied, "This is really hard for me!"

Even though she felt like death warmed over, a tiny chuckle fell from her mouth. "But I thought it wasn't…"

"This is really _difficult _for me." He had to laugh with her because the situation was too bizarre not to. "Since the day we met I've only thought about wanting to make love with you and for most of those years, I had the urge but not the opportunity. This is the first time _ever _that I have the opportunity and don't have the urge."

"I'll try harder!" She pleaded. Then light laughter seized her again. "If you try harder." Lifting the covers ever so slightly she encouraged, "Maybe if you lose the boxers and get a little closer you'll feel up to it."

"I love you, Honey," He said sympathetically on her behalf as well as his. While averting his eyes from her face, he followed her directions, shucking his shorts and joining her under the heap of blankets covering the fever-soaked bed sheets. "Anything for you."

"Better?" She inquired while realizing exactly how much she was dreading every minute of the task.

"I'm sure it will be soon." He tried to sound positive while being assaulted by the fragrant smells of her sour body odor and menthol cough drop. "Yes…much better," He lied as he tried to block the horrifying sounds of her congested breathing.

"Good…now pleeease hurry up." She begged, "I'm sorry, but having you this close when I feel this ill is making my skin crawl."

"I _really _need you to refrain from comments such as those," He pleaded while closing his eyes, hoping biological instinct would miraculously take over. "I uh…need something a little more inspirational from you if you get my drift. Or to follow the old adage, if you can't say anything inspiring…don't say anything at all, just moan."

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****11:18 a.m. **

"Do me a favor," Nick asked his cheery fiancée as he watched her slicing strawberries, "Try not to bring up the wedding plans. Considering the situation between Greg and Tawny, I would hate for them to feel uncomfortable or pressured about…"

"No problem." She jeered, "Gosh, you act like it's the only thing I talk about when I'm home."

"Uh…" He opted to let that one go. "And even though I know it's Sunday and we just got preached at for 98 minutes, not that I was counting…promise me you won't go crazy evangelizing about stripping objectifying women?" Her glare caused him to add a caveat. "Of course I agree with you that it does, it's just…I don't want Tawny to feel awkward."

"Honey, I'm not going to do anything to make the poor girl feel uneasy," She assured him. "I'm trying to _build_ her self-esteem, remember?" Then her tone turned sharp. "But when I get Greg alone, he's getting a piece of my mind. Oh yeah, Mr. Irresponsible is going down on cross-exam."

"Poor Greggo," Nick trembled at the thought. "He doesn't stand a chance."

**The Grissoms'  
****11:29 a.m. **

After eventually achieving the minimum level of enthusiasm required to begin his mission, Gil focused intently on maintaining the level of effort required to see it through. Unfortunately, Sara didn't keep her promise to try hard as well. Ten minutes into the supposedly _mutual_ undertaking, she fell asleep.

"Sara?" There is a list of things a guy _never_ wants to experience in the bedroom and his partner falling asleep while making love is definitely one of them. "Sara..." He beckoned while lightly shaking her.

"Huh?" Her eyes flickered open. "Sorry…oh…did I fall asleep?"

"Yes, but please don't talk about it, I'm keeping it a secret from my ego."

"Thank god we're done," She blurted. "Now please get off me."

Reluctantly he broke the news. "Uh…we're not done."

"Oh." Her hands flew to her aching head. "How much longer?"

"I'm doing my best." He cringed as he wondered if it would have been better if she remained sleeping. "Unfortunately, my body knows that your body wants no part of this process and it's not conducive to…"

"Come on." She patted him on the head like she was encouraging a cocker spaniel. "You can do it."

"I appreciate your confidence, but under these less than stellar conditions, it's going to take a little while to..."

"Good lord! We've been at it for what…fifteen, twenty minutes!" Frustration filled her phlegmy voice. "It only took _three minutes _on the airplane the other night! Whatever you did then to expedite matters, just do the same thing now. Pretend there is a line forming outside the door and you need to finish!"

"Talk about comparing apples to oranges!" He had to laugh. "On the plane I was fulfilling a fantasy six years in the making. Not to mention, you were _awake_ and an _active_ _participant_! This… this is about as enjoyable for me as attending a departmental staff meeting." He rolled his eyes. "Which, by the way, I found out that I'm mandated to attend once I'm in my new position."

"Speaking of position…" Sara gasped for breath like a fish out of water. "Could you um…shift a little, I'm having trouble breathing."

Losing what little enthusiasm he had to begin with, he whimpered, "Oh for the love of god, Sara, can we just admit this isn't going to work?" Backing off, he shook his head. "I'm really sorry but…"

"Wait! Please!" Grabbing his shoulders, she suggested, "If the plane fantasy does it for you, then how about you grab a handful of cocktail peanuts from the kitchen and when you get back, we'll take the action to the bathroom counter and pretend we're a mile high on a 747?"

"Oh, Honey…" The desperation in her eyes gave him the will to go on. "Let's…how about we try having you not talk again, but instead of falling asleep…try to stay awake and keep your hands on my shoulders…and, if you can muster the energy, eventually slide them over my back, okay?"

"Thank you." She appreciated his patience.

He nodded. "I'd say it was my pleasure but…"

"Just one more thing!"

"What?" He replied, while knowing in his gut he should have insisted she keep her mouth shut.

Smoothing her clammy palm over his cheek, she sweetly said, "I know I'm a real turn-off right now, so don't feel obligated to think about me. If you need to think about someone else…that's fine. Don't feel guilty. I'm giving you permission to fantasize."

Shocked by her statement, he replied, "You want me to mentally cheat on you while we're trying to conceive our baby? That's twisted."

"Well…is it really that different than men in the fertility clinic flipping through a magazine when they're giving a specimen for in-vitro? Whatever it takes, right?" She forced a smile. "Maybe there's something on pay per view TV we could order that would help?"

Humiliation the only thing rising in him, he remarked in a pathetic whisper, "This is going from worse to train wreck."

"It's all my fault," She assured him. "I mean look at me…I look like a Bubonic Plague victim. Please don't feel bad, any man would have a performance problem under these circumstances."

"Oh god…now you've done it," He heaved a sigh as he rolled onto his side of the bed. "I told you to stop talking but nooooo."

"What?"

"You just uttered the ultimate mood killer, Sara!" Panic in his eyes, he glanced over at her. "You said the two words no guy _ever_ wants to hear in reference to his ability in bed …_performance problem_. And to hear it three days before I get another year older is particularly bad timing." Covering his face with his hands he moaned, "I should be able to do this regardless of the circumstances!"

"Oh." She cringed. "Sorry." And just when she thought she couldn't make matters worse, one of her infamous volcanic sneezes erupted, catching her by surprise. "Could you um…grab the tissues from my nightstand?"

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****11:35 a.m. **

Carrie opened the door with a sunny smile. "Hi, come on in. We're so glad you could make it."

"These are for you." Tawny extended a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers. "Thanks for having us."

Nick finally appeared in the living room. "Hey, Greggo! And, Tawny…so nice to see you again." He swooped in for a warm embrace.

Greg, reciprocating the gesture, vigorously threw his arms around Nick's woman and said, "Thanks again for bailing me out of that mess. You really saved my ass."

To which Carrie replied, "Nicky…how about showing Tawny the view from the balcony?"

"Uh…" Nick knew he was selling out his buddy, but since Greg wasn't the one who kept him warm at night, he complied. "Yeah, come check out the view, Tawny."

Once they were alone, Carrie folded her arms across her chest and glared at Greg. "I sincerely hope that's the last time you need me to bail your ass out of a charge and save your job. Tawny is completely vulnerable and reliant on you! You need to get your act together and stop being irresponsible."

"Uh…" Her stare reminded him of his father's disapproving look and suddenly Greg went from thinking brunch would be fun, to wondering exactly how long brunch was going to last.

"You heard me! Look, the last thing Tawny needs in her life is another _guy_." Placing a hand on Greg's shoulder, she said, "She needs a man. You think you can grow up and be one? When you answer, include some action statements so I know you're not just feeding me words."

He swallowed hard, trying to manage a decent reply, "I uh…left Never-Never Land a few weeks ago and I think I'm making steady progress. I attended my first session of Anger Management class this morning, I have $500 set aside for a savings account for the baby, and I'm switching to Dayshift so I can be more accessible to Tawny and her emotional needs."

Smiling she commented, "Very good, Peter Pan. I'm impressed."

Returning her relaxed expression, he asked, "Does that mean I get to eat at the grown-up table?"

"Yeah…I'll even let you have a butter knife."

**The Grissoms'  
****12:25 p.m. **

Wearing his navy blue terrycloth robe, Gil sat in his favorite chair in the living room, lost in the latest edition of Forensic Science Monthly and enjoying the air conditioning.

"Hey," Sara cautiously greeted as she stepped into the room in her pink robe. "I was wondering where you went."

"Sorry." Closing the magazine, he forced a smile. "Just trying to get my mind off things for a little while."

Rocking on her heels, she announced, "I took a shower."

"You look better, Honey," He sweetly responded. "Do you feel any better?"

"I swiped one of your 800mg Motrin and I'm definitely less achy."

"Good."

"How do _you_ feel?" She delicately prodded, hoping he was over his embarrassment and ready to give it another try.

"Unfortunately, about the same."

"Oh." With her hands in her robe pockets to keep warm, she meandered into the kitchen. "I'm uh…going to nibble on some crackers. Want anything?"

"No thanks." He returned to his article and fell silent.

Searching the pantry, Sara finally found the box of water crackers she was looking for, but when she opened the box, the bottom fell out and the crackers crashed on the tile floor. "Damn it!"

Tossing his magazine on the coffee table, Gil rushed into the kitchen. "Let me."

She handed him the broom from her hand. "I can't do anything right today."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" He quipped. When he finished sweeping the crackers he saw that Sara was tearing up. "Please don't cry," He pleaded while resting the broom against the back door of the kitchen so he could take her in his arms. "Come here."

"Why do we always have bad timing?" She sniffled into the softness of his robe while seeking comfort in his tight embrace. "I can't believe this. We were perfect three days ago. Why now?"

Kissing the top of her head, he tenderly said, "Look…there's no karmic significance to this. The facts are, you're very ill and I only got three hours sleep before shift last night. How about I put some fresh sheets on the bed and we both get some rest. When we wake we'll see how we feel and go from there, okay?"

"Okay," She agreed while fearing it wouldn't help matters.

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****12:46 p.m. **

While the women were in the bedroom discussing wedding details, Nick stood at the sink rinsing dishes and passing them to Greg to load in the dishwasher. "I'm sorry about all the wedding talk, Buddy."

"No, it's cool, Carrie is excited," Greg replied while counting the minutes until he could snag Tawny and escape.

"I told her not to bring it up."

"She didn't," Greg reminded him. "Tawny did. She uh…loves that wedding planning show on TLC…"

"Wedding story." Nick turned off the water and dried his hands. "That show should be banned."

"Yeah." Shutting the door of the dishwasher, Greg sighed, "So you think you're ready for marriage?"

"Hell yeah." Opening the fridge he grabbed a couple of beers. "It's the wedding planning I now realize I'm totally unprepared to handle." Popping off the bottle tops he changed to a blissful tone. "But all the torturous discussions over centerpieces and table linens will be worth it when I see Carrie walking down that aisle smiling at me." He handed Greg a bottle. "I'll let you drink because you've got a designated driver, my friend."

Raising his bottle, he joked, "One of the few perks of accidentally getting your girlfriend pregnant."

"You never answered me, how did you manage that by the way?" Nick tilted his beer and took a sip. "Because you always chatted up responsibility and you had that weird matching the right condom to the right girl concept..."

"Just like they tell you in High School…one moment of passion can change your life. I'm the guy in the after school special."

"Are you _sure_ you're the guy?" Nick realized his insensitivity the moment the question slipped out. "That was totally not cool. I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you…"

"Hey…it's okay. How can I blame you for wondering about her? I explicitly dished every detail about her to you before this all happened. Anyway, you're not the first to ask and I'm sure you won't be the last because I haven't told my dad about it yet." Pausing for a swig, Greg considered his answer. "But yeah…I'm absolutely certain the baby is mine. Just because she was a stripper doesn't mean she slept around."

"Of course not." Nick raised his hand. "Please forget I ever asked. Oh…speaking of asking. I need to officially ask you to be in the wedding. So how about it? Are you up for being a groomsman? No pressure, but I need an answer by the 20th according to the project management software printout Carrie gave me."

Happy to be included, he retorted, "Yeah, sure, I look great in a tux."

Nick broke the news, "She's going to insist you tone down the hair for photos."

After swallowing a gulp of beer, he chuckled, "I'll do anything Carrie asks because, she scares the crap out of me and she saved my ass….that's the perfect prescription for submission."

Nick tapped his bottle against Greg's. "Trust me, I know all about submission, Bro. And now that you're living with a woman, here's the most important phrase you need to know…_yes, Dear_."

Meanwhile in the bedroom, the women were lounging on the king-size bed surrounded by magazines and discussing honeymoon details…

"Nick will fall to his knees and do my bidding when he sees me in this slinky lingerie, don't you think?" Carrie pointed to the risqué photo.

"Definitely," Tawny wholeheartedly agreed.

"I just wish I had your abs." Carrie rolled on her back and patted her flat but undefined tummy. "How did you manage those?"

"I have a crunch routine I do daily and I take a Cardio Strip class at The Fitness Den five times a week. Of course, dancing six times a week was great exercise." Happiness flowing in her voice, she said, "But I'm not doing that ever again."

"Cardio Strip class?" Carrie repeated in a curious tone. "They have that at a regular gym?"

"Oh yeah…it's all the rage." Tawny explained while flipping through photos of wedding gowns, "Dancers take it as well as stay at home moms looking to punch things up in the bedroom. It's a hoot. Oh…but I know you think stripping degrades women."

Carrie winked. "Only if done in public for money, Sweetie. I'm all for consenting adults having fun in private."

"Oh."

Redirecting to her original question, Carrie asked, "So, if I did the class five times a week and followed your crunch routine daily, do you think I'd have a hard body by the honeymoon?"

"Definitely," Tawny assured her. "But more importantly, you'll be able to do _this_ by the honeymoon." With catlike grace, she stretched out on the bed, extended her right leg to the ceiling and then brought it behind her ear. "Flexibility is always a nice surprise."

"Whoa." Carrie envisioned the look on Nick's face when she pulled that trick out of the bag on the honeymoon. "Nick will be shocked."

Giggling, Tawny told her stunned friend, "Yeah…and all men love a nice surprise."

**The Grissoms'  
****3:49 p.m. **

Upon waking forty-five minutes previously, Sara realized that when Gil eventually woke, if they utilized the same strategy, they would most like get the same results…or more appropriately, the same _lack_ of results. Because not only did she feel, sound and look just as lousy as before, she now had him convinced he had plumbing problems.

But even though her head was clogged with congestion, Sara's crafty mind was still functioning at full capacity. Remembering that men are visual creatures, she decided the _only_ way to get her husband's groove back would be to take away his sight. In place of visual enticement, and in an effort to block the severely undesirable qualities she was temporarily exuding, she decided to provide an overdose of alternative stimuli.

Moving slowly in her weakened state, Sara had managed to gather the proper supplies and take the necessary actions within twenty minutes. After that, she returned to the bed to lie in wait for her prey to stir from slumber. Knowing Gil's penchant for friskiness upon waking, she felt confident about her timing and when she saw him finally rousing, she poised to put the details of 'Operation Baby Making Desperation' into motion. As soon as he lifted his head, in one swift move, she cinched her red silk teddy over his eyes like a blindfold while whispering, "Shhhh…no talking."

Off balance by the shocking wake-up call and still half asleep, Gil lay on his back wondering what the hell was going on. Then the overpowering scent of sugar cookies invigorated him and he fully woke, realizing he was in bed and his wife must be nearby.

A second later, he felt ear buds jabbed in both his ears and the lusty score of La Habanera from Carmen quickly blocked out all external noise. Clearly, his wife had a plan. As the memorable music and delicious aroma of sugar cookies appealed to his mind and body, he felt the distinct texture of sinfully decadent La Perla lace against his skin as an unseen female invaded his personal space.

It was all a little overwhelming.

_**Five minutes later…**_

Ripping out the ear buds and tugging off the make shift blindfold, Gil's grin filled the room. "Oh good…it is you. I was pretty sure but…" He started laughing.

"But not worried enough to check until _after_." Thrilled with the triumph of her military operation and her husband's restored self-esteem, Sara smirked. "You naughty boy."

"Hey, as a soldier on a mission, it wasn't my place to question authority." Elated by their victory in the face of adversity, he kissed her forehead, "You're one hell of a military strategist, Sweetheart."

"Thank you…" She radiated with satisfaction as well as a raging fever. "Congratulations on your successful troop deployment. I always knew you had it in you." Running her fingers through his damp hair, she reminded him, "Remember, you can't retreat yet. I want you right where you are for five more minutes."

"Oh sure…_now _you say you want me." Rolling his eyes he feigned irritation. "Why didn't you say that earlier when I was struggling?"

"Sorry, I'm rushing on adrenaline right now."

"Do you think it worked?" He asked, while enjoying the elation in her eyes.

"Let's review what we have going in our favor. We know the timing is right according to science and Doris. Our position was optimal, I have a pillow stuffed under my hips to achieve the ideal angle and of course the most important factor…your _exceptional _performance."

Chuckling, he informed her, "_Exceptional _is a much better companion word to _performance_ than your earlier selection."

"Oh! And let's not forget…I was taking Robitussin." Suddenly she remembered something else and burst out laughing. "Oh my god! You left the broom by the back door when you were done sweeping up the crackers!"

"You're worried about that right now?" He figured she was delirious from the fever. "Honey, I promise to put it away when…"

"No! Remember! I told you!" She choked on laughter and mucous as she explained, "The day Doris brought over the noodle kugel she said to keep a broom by the back door to sweep away the evil spirits of infertility!

"Oh…well…now I feel 100 percent certain we were successful!" He shook his head while falling deeper in love with his wife. "As a matter of fact, I'm sure one of the troops just captured your egg as I spoke."

"But just to be safe…" She patted his cheek. "We have to do this again tomorrow."

"Oh god." Shivering from the thought, he collapsed against her fevered body. "Not again."

"Uh…Honey…can't breathe," She wheezed. "We had a case like this once, remember? Retreat!"

Peeling himself off his wife, he moaned, "I really hope it works this month because I can't take this performance pressure much longer!"

**Nick and Carrie's Apartment  
****4:30 p.m. **

Knocking on the bedroom door, Nick moaned, "How much longer are you going to keep me locked out here, Baby? It's my day off. I spent a third of it at church, a third of it with Sanders and I'd like to spend the rest of it with you."

"Five more minutes!" Carrie yelled after halting her crunch routine. "I've got wedding dress stuff out and I don't want you to see."

"I know…I know…" He droned. "I have to wait and be surprised."

"Trust me…" She snickered while stretching. "…it will be worth it, Stokes!"

His shoulders low, he huffed back to the living room. "If she'd focus a fraction of her planning energy on making the honeymoon as spectacular as the wedding I'd be one satisfied newlywed."

**The Grissoms' **

**5:33 p.m. **

With Sara medicated, satisfied and sound asleep beside him, Gil lay in bed reading Forensic Science Monthly. Delighted by how things had turned out today, he was content to lay in bed next to her until he had to shower and dress for work. But the ring of the doorbell destroyed his relaxation plans.

Only wearing his blue robe, he hurried to the door while trying to figure out who could be stopping by on a Sunday evening. Through the peephole he got his answer…Doris was there holding a crock pot and smiling. "Uh…" He popped open the door a crack. "Hello…I'm uh…not really dressed for company."

"Relax," She chuckled, "I'm not here to kibitz, I'm only dropping off another batch of matzoh ball soup for your wife. Last night I watched her suck down a bowl like she hadn't eaten in weeks…which is entirely possible considering her toothpick thighs."

"Uh…" Relenting, he opened the door and bashfully claimed the crock pot. "Sara is sleeping, but I'll plug this in and make sure she has some when she wakes. Thank you."

Doris sensed the man's discomfort and exploited it. "Nice legs."

Mortified, he proclaimed, "You're killing me, Doris."

"You're cute when you're flustered." Pointing to the crock, she directed, "Put it on warm, not low because the chicken broth gets…"

"Chicken broth?" The two words stunned him. "Did you tell Sara this is made with chicken broth?"

"No." Perplexed, she inquired, "Why?"

"She's a vegetarian."

"Ah ha! Finally an explanation for her toothpick thighs! How funny…she said it was the best soup she ever tasted." Laughing, Doris looked nonplussed. "Ugh…I'm supposed to be kosher, but I crave a lobster every now and then and indulge on the sly. Tell Sara if she doesn't rat me out to my rabbi, I won't call PETA and report her." Waving, she strolled away. "Thanks for the skin show, Legs."

Eager to shut the door but having no available hand, Gil knocked it closed with his foot, realizing afterwards that its slam might wake Sara.

Padding down the hall, he carried the pot of meat-based soup into the kitchen and placed it on the island. Lifting the lid, he took a sniff. His appetite igniting, a second later he had a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"Were you talking to someone at the door?" Sara asked as she appeared in the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

Feeling bad, he said, "I'm sorry, I shut the door too hard. I was carrying the soup and didn't have a free hand."

"It's _the _Soup!" Sara was drawn to the pot like a magnet to metal. "That stuff is delicious!"

"Honey…" He cringed as he saw her salivating. "About the soup…"

"Yes, I'll share." Smiling, she took a seat at the counter. "You deserve it after…"

"It's chicken soup."

"Oh." Her hand raced to her mouth. "I guess I didn't smell it because of my blocked nose."

"Sorry." Gently, he placed the bowl and spoon on the counter. "Do you mind if I…"

"No, go ahead." She watched him reach for the ladle and pour the steaming soup into the bowl. "I don't believe this."

"What?" He lowered his spoon. "Oh no…was this some kind of test? Was I not supposed to eat the soup even though you said I could?"

"No!" She laughed at his interpretation. "I'm _craving _the soup."

"Here we go," He chuckled, recalling the morning after in Colorado Springs when she was certain they conceived.

"The zygote wants soup!" Sliding the bowl away from him, she smiled. "Spoon please."

Shaking his head, he forked it over. "So the zygote isn't a lacto-ovo-pesco vegetarian, like you? The zygote is okay with chicken?"

Practicing avoidance, she remarked, "Speaking of chickens…did you do what I asked you to do? Remember, it's my Scrabble reward from my winning game in Tahoe so you have to comply."

"Not yet." Knowing she wasn't going to drop it, he walked over and picked up the cordless phone. "I'm going to take this in my office and let you enjoy your _chicken _soup in private."

"It's not me, it's the zygote enjoying it!" She shouted in between gulps of golden broth.

When he reached his office, Grissom took a seat, lifted the phone and punched in the phone number as it was written on a slip of paper sitting on his desk.

The operator answered quickly, "Mandalay Bay, how may I direct your call?"

"Room 1272…Ron Grissom."

"One moment while I transfer you."

Tapping his fingers on the arm of his executive chair he closed his eyes.

"Hello."

His eyes jerked open. "Uh…it's Gil."

"This is a nice surprise."

"I was uh…I was wondering, how much longer are you going to be in town?" Part of him wanted the answer to be _I'm checking out today_, while another part hoped it wasn't so.

"Well…I'm starting to get attached to this dry heat in Vegas. The humidity in Florida this time of year is brutal."

"Remember…I don't enjoy sales pitches."

A light chuckle drifted through the phone. "If you ever went to Florida in August you'd know I wasn't bullshitting! I'm never there in August. Anyway, I told you the last time you asked that I'd hang around waiting to see if you'd call. Now look what you've done…you've reinforced the behavior and I'll hang around some more. So I don't know how much longer."

Running his hand over his forehead, he sighed, "Sara has asked me to extend an invitation for dinner. Nothing fancy, just the three of us at the house."

"So you worked everything out."

"Yes."

"I'm happy to hear it." He breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell Sara I'd love to come to dinner."

"She'll be pleased." He wished he could say the same but his emotions were mixed.

"Gil, you didn't say what day or time."

After a deep breath, he replied, "Wednesday…six o'clock."

"But that's your…"

"I know. See you then." Ending the call, he exhaled sharply.

* * *

_**The story continues in:Birthday Boys - the 5th installment in the Feasibility Study series.**_

_**Teasers for the Birthday Boysseries: **Gil and Nick get a little older, a little wiser and a lot happier. Someone comes to Vegas with a little surprise. And if you wanted to know more about Greg, this is a good place to start._

_Thanks, _

_Maggs_


End file.
